Day Two Mature content No. 414 Published June 10th, 2024 8:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Well, another essay has been completed but not published. The shape of things to come shall be short blurbs visible, changing from time to time, yet nothing substantial or remotely personal will appear in the public domain. I don’t want my feelings out there floating amongst the detritus. I’ve said that before, too. The idea never stuck for very long because I was impatient. Now? What’s different? I must remain behind a construct for my own peace of mind. I don’t know if this situation will change anytime soon, nor do I have a plan for the long term. And? I don’t care. Never take issue with a guy wearing red leather pants, especially if he hails from Calabria. That will not go over well. Don’t even get me started on the Sicilians. Just a thought. The last of the coffee on this Wednesday morning. The drive was a bit slow due to lots of commuters, but it came and went like always. I have the rest of the day to continue where I left off yesterday with storage and organization. The dinner I created last night turned out very well and there is enough left for another meal this evening. That means my late afternoon work will be very simple. Oh, boy is Gloria fucking scary and strange in this episode. I never enjoyed the scenes at the zoo. Sometimes I skip them because there is an aspect of one scene that is rather disgusting. Ugh. Whatever. She is not here, thank Christ, and there is little chance I’d be concerned with such a situation in the future. I see too much sometimes, but just enough during more important moments. Ooh-fa. The weather is sunny and the air cool, but the warmth of the sun is too much for physical work in the backyard. I moved a few more items, organized part of the garage, and built a temporary step to the shed. Oy. There is a ton of empty space in the garage now, meaning whenever I work out there I need not be concerned about what goes where. I formulated a plan to build a loft above roughly forty percent of the shed space. One day soon I’ll visit the hardware store for a few hangers so I can put it up. The area will be thirty-two square feet and the lower portion of the loft will be nearly eight feet off the floor. Not bad. That will be long-term storage. The important aspects of this change in the household is to allow the car to fit in the garage each day and to free up storage for much-needed items inside the house. I don’t like foraging for things whenever the need arises. I went to the big wine store and saw that petite beauty again. There is something about her face which frightens me, however. I usually see her in one place or another (I believe she’s an assistant manager), and always in super-tight yoga pants that leave nothing to the imagination. I’ve seen her so many times that her lines don’t hit me upside the head very much anymore. As I said, she’s rather scary. Aside from seeing that gorgeous woman again, my order had a few incorrect items but it’s not a big deal; partly my fault for not checking the items prior to leaving the store. Upon returning home, I took care of the routine and poured myself a nice, cold glass of depressing liquid for posterity. The fact that I purchase whiskey in 1.75L bottles six at a time is probably not a good thing, but I will also say that when the bar is full, I am much more comfortable. Eh... Both facts are indicative of my need to escape reality, much like the third image here. She is not real – just like several other images of beauty that I’ve included in recent entries – and the more I consider my condition, the more I realize how distorted my life has become. All of the fictional programming I follow, the imagery toward which I tend to gravitate, and the nature of my thought processes as they have changed since the first damaging dream have combined to create the most skewed version of myself imaginable. I used to be quite different, honestly. I really was different, and I don’t just mean during the glowing years. There was more. Now? I have no future. There is no savior. There is probably a ‘her’, but I’ll never know. Staring at that woman’s legs at the store was tiny when held against the stark image of what I have become. All that shit adds up to the reason I no longer publish anything. Friday; nearly meaningless. I have coffee and my program is running. In a little while I will take care of half the routine and then visit the market for a few items. Afterward, the only priority will be a continuation of straightening two rooms inside the house and ensuring that the garage enjoys lots of empty space. I really don’t know what else to do these days. I am having trouble with every step of every day. I can’t extricate certain very specific images from my brain long enough to fully concentrate on anything. The damaging dreams have been taking their toll on my ability to cope with reality and understand why such a change came about in the first place. My work around the house is solely for trying to push everything away (suppression, for sure) long enough to think clearly. I can’t stop seeing her and I can’t disregard such a strong desire to... Never mind. My brain is out of fucking control. I’ll get through the day like always, but the truth is I am finding less and less reason to even try in the first place. I went to the market and hardware store and then returned to finish my morning housework. Thankfully, there was nothing to see. Very good. The hardware will allow me to fully build and install a loft in the shed. I don’t know if I’ll complete it today, though, because I am not feeling up to snuff like the past several days. Maybe after lunch I’ll feel like working out there. Aside from the loft, I picked up a bolt latch for the kitchen cabinet that has not remained closed due to design and/or manufacturing flaws. I believe I can make it work. Once installed, I can work on relaxing the left door which is bowed quite a bit. The best method is to force the door to bow in the opposite fashion and then clamp it. The process will take weeks because training the wood is not a quick and easy fix. I may also fasten the main component to the decorative slats that are on the front. That may help train the wood to flatten some. Worst case, I’ll relocate the cabinet to the shed and find a replacement for the kitchen. I have my eye on a similar unit that is likely better designed, plus it would be delivered by truck and forklift rather than shipped across the ocean. My fat cocktail is helping to smooth the late morning. Call me what you will... I don’t fucking care anymore. Saturday. Ugh... A glimpse of her just for a moment yesterday and right there before my hungry eyes was a reminder of something that took place way back in nineteen (I think it was that year, anyway). All I can say is that it had to do with a certain person – one who is attractive and scary, sweet and powerful (not my type at all) – as she left one of the job sites while we returned to work. She owned the home in which we had been working, and little did I know that the job for her would not be the last. In fact, we worked quite a bit in her own home not long after the aforementioned work was wrapped up. I’ve rarely seen that type of maneuver, especially with regard to someone near my own age. As for the other one, the vision went straight into me and then traveled back in time just to drive me up the fucking wall. The gradient became illuminated, and then my own life was called into question... The changes which have come about in the last couple of years. Not good. Believe me, you don’t want to know the details. I saw her for that short period of time, fell into a pit again because I can’t have her in ANY fucking way that is conceivable, and nearly lost my way entirely before righting myself to continue the afternoon. My brain became saturated with imaginary pictures swirling themselves into a froth. Prior to the sight of her fucking pants and everything contained therein, I built nearly all of the loft. After the sighting? All I could do was sweep the floors of the shed and garage. I became worthless. The early morning business is out of the way and my head is completely sideways because of a wildlife program on the television. I usually have the news running during the morning, but this being Saturday means the choices are limited, in part due to the need to stream live television through the Internet. Anyway, there was an intern who traveled to the UK to assist veterinarians there and learn. She was gorgeous and had the frame and form of the Raven. Those jeans are not very popular anymore (I believe), having been replaced with designs carrying much higher waistlines. The low-rise style did a much better job of accentuating the relationship between waist and hips, not to mention the way the upper thighs can be shown off thanks to an extremely short zipper (or button fly, whichever). The girl on the program had lines up the wazoo – almost fully visible – medium brown hair framing those very special facial features that I love so much, and moved with the fluid nature of a person with no idea whatsoever that she is an enigma and something to be cherished for all time. I worshiped her for a few minutes and then finished my morning stuff. Now I have her image in my brain. There is a certain very specific mechanical relationship between that style of pants and the numbers that took over my life some twenty-odd years ago. I can’t describe it, but I will say that nothing on earth drives me up the wall more quickly or effectively than seeing an ideal example of such an amazing form. The Raven had it in spades and allowed me to stare to my heart’s content, or at least until She became uncomfortable due to all the gushing about Her beauty. I had to back off at times and I fully understood why. The girl on the television was very similar, although she carried that lower-face thingy (like Nora) that I still can’t fucking describe no matter how hard I try. I know a good amount of words, but still not enough. The rest of this morning will be spent right here at the control center because I need to consider how much worse these types of sightings hit me as opposed to just a year ago. This is fucking insane. I can’t believe the massive amount of emotion that flowed through me when I saw her smile. Yes, the torment and pain were present, but the more time that passes, the more desperation I feel during those moments, as if I am missing out on something that will disappear forever. It hurts, deeply. My heart has been involving itself for months now, and I can barely maintain myself each day. What I saw yesterday was equally powerful, yet very different and I can’t say why. Just know that the pain I feel when I see those aspects of beauty is increasing and disallowing clear thinking at the most fundamental level. That is to say I am having more trouble functioning like a real person than ever before. I wish I hadn’t seen that girl on the television. This situation inside my head is a clear indication of my present condition, and when combined with the damaging dreams and how they have skewed my way of thinking, the image of myself compared to some years ago is so different that I cannot understand it. The shit situations continue to grade aside any possibility of me finding inner peace. Today is going to be tough. I will have to push hard to come out the other side upright. I don't even know where to fuckin' start Ugh. Reality. Not good. I do not deal well with the rigors of being aware that human beings have a finite time to live. I am not going into a massive philosophical rant, either. We have been given the questionable gift of knowing that we are going to die. Other creatures – aside from humans, of course... I am referring to the INNOCENT species who greatly outnumber the stupid (all) people – have no idea of the finite nature of existence, and thankfully so. We are the ones who use up everything and continue to advance all that the other creatures cannot. We progress for all the good it can do. Sometimes I think about everything and wonder about the point of it all, and other times I simply go with the flow and do my best to be productive and comfortable. Today seems to be a combination of the two, good or bad as that may be. The Sunday morning drive came and went without incident, plus I did not stop at the market like usual, so I am at the control center earlier than the average weekend. Very good. I need some time to think after dealing with last night and trying to fall asleep. My brain would not stop thinking about the shed, my car (the slipper) and other things that I need to do now that the former is in place and available. As for the car, well... I am having trouble with that topic but it will not leave me alone. I’ve been considering certain aspects of life that have disappeared, and my desire to own and drive certain very specific models may now be one of them. Ugh. I keep saying that because the little enjoyments continue to shrink in their ability to hold me up. I did eventually fall asleep, of course, and awakened today ready for the drive. Well, I was more ready to arrive back home, but you know what I mean. Some are sharp in the morning and others are a bit foggy and slow to get going. I just happen to be one of the sharp people. Now I can do whatever the fuck I need for the rest of the day. Nice. I have a few ideas for storage now that the loft is finished, plus a plan for the empty space that will be created in the garage cabinets. I’ll get to a few things once the coffee is gone. As for the inside of my head and all that shit from yesterday, nothing has changed. I’ve just been pushing back in order to function like a grown-up person. The shit will eventually push back hard enough to put me down. I already know. The other essay that I mention from time to time is entitled ‘The Reason’, just in case I do decide to die. At least certain people will know why. I might work on that one again, soon. As my head goes through the motions of living in these late days, sometimes the feelings become too powerful to quash. I need that little outlet. I only bring it up because the dreamy nature of the past comes to mind each and every day no matter what else may be taking place. The information pushes me and I need to do something about it. Right now, for example, and within this paragraph, I’ve been discussing what can be done today, but all the while the back of my mind keeps returning to certain situations from years ago that are so powerful that I can’t shove them away, ever. Even in the midst of something important, the feelings slam me over and over. I can’t do anything about anything these days. I’ll continue to work and try to push back because I can’t just fucking sit here all the time. One day, everything will stop and that other essay will be all that is left of yours truly. Splendid. I know not when, but one day. For whatever reason, that ‘thing’ that I’ve never been able to understand or explain (and that despite a long discussion with someone that is very important to me but gone) returned to my mind this morning and I keep wondering if I need to leave it alone to avoid being overly sad. I just don’t know. The operation, for lack of a better term, is something so wondrous that I still can’t believe it, and this after years of consideration. I know what it is for the most part, I just don’t understand how or why it may take place during certain situations. I don’t get it. I suppose considering the way things have changed over the years – including the way I have been completely damned by dreams – I’ll never know, nor will the experience be a possibility for me. All this shit continues to make me wonder why I am sitting here, why I still try to help other people, and what I may be waiting for. Do you know? Fuck off. You don’t know anything. What I know is that the situation, the ‘thing’, is real because I’ve seen and experienced it. If the possibility is gone, I’ll see it as nothing more than another reason to die. I feel so empty and broken right now that all the effort in the world will be required if I am to get anything done today. As I’ve said many times, with each passing day there is less reason for me to help others. Eventually it will be completely gone and I won’t be able to find a reason to save my life. Cocktail hour has arrived, thank the maker. I finished the routine with my extended family in the background. I need to keep the house fairly quiet for a while, or at least until I have the place to myself until evening. I’ll take care of laundry and garbage in a little while. The French girl will be on the screen soon, meaning my brain will create scenarios in which she is with me and involved in physical situations that I shall not describe here. I’ve already done that plenty. Fucking hell, though... The things that go through my head when she walks away from the camera are absolutely criminal. Don’t even get me started when her character complains that Artie’s gnocchi is going to cause her to ‘get a belly’, and then she lifts her top to reveal no such circumstance. Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch... What I wouldn’t give to... Eh, never mind. I’ve had the hots for that girl for so many years now that I don’t even know where to begin. And now Devin is on the screen (all through this episode and a few others later during the series). Fuck me in a muddy ditch in winter... She is the very definition of damaging, much like the dreams. Ugh. Whatever. If only... NOPE. Thank God I am an alcoholic. ‘None of that for me’ means I need some sort of crutch to hold me up during those moments when the desire becomes out of fucking control. Yep... I am weaker than one may believe. Trust me when I say that what goes through my head these days when I see something special has never been fully described on the site. Never. I can’t do that because I already appear bad enough. I should refrain from pointing out that my desire to plant my lips and tongue to the French girl’s labia for a calendar month. My feelings are stronger than that, too. Wait... What did I say? Labia. Lips. I would worship her sex until my death. Didn’t I say I was going to leave out the details? She would find herself wholly aware of the depth of my desire. But remember, I can’t say anything for reasons of good form. My tongue would come out of her fucking nose in ten seconds. The universe has forsaken me. As for the storage and organization, I have no idea how I will feel later today, so the work may or may not take place. To be honest, I feel like cruising over the hill to sit at my favorite lunch spot for a little while. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll visit that restaurant/bar and do some writing. After all these years, feeling even the tiniest bit free usually calls for stepping outside my normal life and embracing the time-honored tradition of relaxing with some excellent food and alcohol while typing into the cloud. My ideas for different road trips seem to lead nowhere, and the fact that very few of my preferred destinations around this area have disappeared adds up to a feeling akin to lashing out. My path through life continues to narrow. I have to do something that remotely resembles better days. This episode shows me the French girl, Devin and her unbelievably cute demeanor, and Jamie in some of the most adorable shots imaginable. The combination is forcing me to sip this whiskey at an even greater rate than on a typical day. I will eventually get some things done. I always do. Thankfully, dinner will be reheated leftovers. Very simple. Whatever happened during last night that has left the hearing in my ‘good’ ear’s narrowed frequency response has been baffling. My good ear was the one that provided detail, as in high frequency definition. I don’t know if this will pass or not, but I will say that if it does not, I have one additional reason to commit suicide. Maybe I should refill my drink, consume it, and then go to bed for a few hours. Depression is not an enjoyable state of mind. Storage and organization... Yeah, whatever. AJ is upset that Devin didn’t tell him that her family is very rich. What a fucking idiot. He could have had something I’ve desired for years, not to mention a lack of concern about the cost of daily comfort. Jesus. Had that been me? Oh, Hell... I would have made my feelings very clear for a very long time. I’d have worshiped every fucking aspect of that girl until she tossed me aside. Never me. Just... NEVER ME. My time has all but passed. Curious; age does alter one’s mindset. Too bad I didn’t see it years ago. Can you imagine her little vagina? Can you imagine how fucking adorable it was back then? Am I being disrespectful, or am I being honest? I am a ‘he’ who is attracted to a ‘she’, so speaking my mind should not be a problem as long as I do not treat her as an object or demean her in any way. I am only speaking of something that is a draw for me. Her little labia, nothing more. Yes, she is a person above all other things, but due to me being an absolute nobody sitting here alone with my thoughts day after day, the only recourse I have is to vent every now and then, and this time the topic just happens to be that girl in the show from more than twenty years ago. None of it matters, so I’d better not get in trouble for this. Tell me there is a person who does not think in such terms. Go for it. The point is AJ could have had the girl, the gold watch and everything. Too bad he was a fuckin’ idiot. I had the girl, the silver watch and nothing, but that was another story; a fictional story. Devin is a food group. My girl in the story was a machine. Devin is a character portrayed by a real person. Twenty years of being obsessed with the example above Monday morning has appeared regardless of my feelings. Time rolls on, rolls over me, and rolls very quickly when I am not paying attention. There is no stopping the progression of events. I have coffee and a wide-open schedule, though, so as of now the day does not appear bad. The purity has created an absolutely heartbreaking situation in my mind and I feel it every fucking day. This morning is no different. There was an amazing scene some years ago that took place in reality and caught me off-guard. Some time later I realized the topic was very real, and now I can’t seem to escape the idea that the most important aspects of living are all gone. Things are changing and there is nothing I can do about it. What took place cannot easily be explained, either. Well, there is no one available. Not much point in trying at all. It just hurts so much. No way out of this. There is no way out. I just have to lump it. It's Tuesday now. Does that matter? Pointing out the changing of the calendar from one day to the next? No one is going to give a shit. It’s rather like telling people too long of a story about something personal. Part way through your bullshit, they will lose interest. I’ve been stating the day of the week – not every single time, but most – for years, mostly since the outset of the pandemic, I believe. I suppose there is nothing else to break into the beginning of a morning paragraph. Shit, I don’t know. Daily stuff; the routine, housework, laundry, dry cleaning, organization... Those items are my entire life because the holes inside me cannot realistically be filled by anyone or anything else. There is the idea of the savior, but she is about as likely as growing wings and flying myself to Vegas without a plane ticket. I don’t enjoy considering my place in the world. I enjoy lunch, though. Dinner sometimes, too. The rest is simply filler, as if I am waiting for something to happen. Wait... What? What did you say? Get out there and FIND what I need? Right. That’s simple. Combine about ten different personalities and then inject them into a woman presenting the extremely rare physical appearance that must be aligned with my obsession. Good fucking luck. There is nothing left for me in the world. Coffee, I guess. The time is just shy of nine o’clock and I plan to take it easy for a little while longer. There is always plenty to do. I just need to find some ambition to push through the morning and make it to afternoon time. I found it. Some of my stuff is finished. I also cleaned the cat steps and returned them to their previous place next to the master bed. Also, I mounted the left-hand display with an arm; a single version of the double arm holding the center and right-hand displays. It’s been residing in the garage for the last few months because I figured it was not completely necessary and decided to use it for a television out there. Well, I changed my mind again and installed the smaller, curved display back where it was above my toolbox. I am awaiting a cable management tray that mounts to the back of this table. When it arrives (probably Friday), I’ll straighten everything and power the display. I also need to install the new microphone that came in the mail the other day. Everything should come together once the tray is here. Initially, I was concerned about the way it mounts to the rear of the table, but later realized that the mounting style doesn’t matter. I can customize it however I wish. Some peripherals and accessories which clamp to a table do not fit very well, but I am just the person to employ power tools and whatnot in order to adapt the product as needed. No big deal. This table is seventy-four by thirty-two inches and holds everything necessary for me to write, watch, edit or whatever else feels like a priority on any given day. In fact, the table is so large that I can operate this machine with all three displays and there is still plenty of room for the laptop, just in case I need to access older files or software. Not for nothing, but I inherited this table from the federal government some years ago and it was built by a contracted company in 1952. Just a thought. I used to have all sorts of things from that era. Now I have very little. The main reason I wanted some things from NASA’s glorious history in my house was because I felt a deep connection to them. Some of those items have gone away. Very few remain in my possession. I don’t even know why I brought up the fucking table. Maybe I was feeling the memories. Maybe I am a fucking idiot. Anyway, the day will move along and I’ll do whatever seems best. Ugh. I saw her again, just for a few seconds. Jesus. I wish that hadn’t happened, but at the moment I was gazing toward the street and then... SMACK! Her form hit me right in the face and caught me right the hell off-guard again. Damn. Sometimes I just can’t understand her shape. Eh... Fuck it. The sight is gone and will occur again. I just have to fucking deal with it. So I connected the microphone to check this out and see how it's going to work with Google Docs. I guess it's not bad, and I wanted to do this for some time because the interface while typing can be clumsy. Still good, but clumsy. What I will probably do is try out the microphone for a few days beginning with tomorrow morning and then make a decision on whether or not this is the best way to go for faster input to the documents. Sometimes when I'm working around the house I get ideas on what I need to say or other aspects of my mind that should be explored, but by the time I sit at the editor they fade too much for me to recall. Memory is not a fun thing to deal with as we age. The previous entry ended with a very sad note or should I say ON a very sad note. I recalled shit situation number two for the billionth time and remembered a small but very significant detail that had been lost in the wasteland of my head for many years. I just noticed that when I curse into the microphone, the interface replaces some of the letters with asterisks. That is damned funny. I need to go back with the mouse and keyboard to correct the errors. Heh. Anyway, I’ll be trying to use this thing when the mood strikes, regardless of the necessity of returning and manually replacing individual letters. Now, where was I? Ah, yes... The added detail of shit situation number two. The worst aspect of recalling something that had been lost for so many years is that it is related to one person that is still living. Moreover, and worse, is the fact that said person is the sole soul with whom I’ve been in contact within my family for the last decade-plus, the rest having passed away over the years. This is not good and has been causing anger on and off for quite a while now. I believe the realization came about during the past month or so. I need to think about everything some more prior to making any changes. This is just all bad. I had thought for a long time that the situation was fine – though I consider the negative effects that shit has had on me for decades, mostly throughout the last four years of analysis – and now I see that the issue has been larger than originally thought. I can’t even slam the fucking door on anyone. Not one person is available. The next day is here regardless of whether or not I am ready. On the upside, the morning has progressed, I have a nice, fat cocktail, and the routine is finished. I also clamped some wood to the kitchen cabinet door in hopes of training it to relax, or at least lessen the amount that the handle side is bowed. The plan is to leave the training system in place for a week or so, mount the back of the cabinet to the wall, and then install a latch across the tops of the doors so they stay closed and aligned. Both doors have issues and the latch will help one of them. The other is dependent upon how well my reverse bow system works over time. On another front, I ordered three plastic panels and corner pieces to surround the litter boxes. One (or both, possibly) of the cats has been overshooting the top edges of the boxes, so I have to get something in place that will block the liquid. The cats are getting older, meaning I’ll have to do my best to help them when the need arises. I don’t mind because I love those little guys. Moreover, once the panels are surrounding the boxes – both sit upon a plastic tray – I can continue improving that room. Both beds are going to be relocated to the shed, one dresser will take their place, and one tree will be moved to the master bedroom. In all, there are lots of changes that should help the spare bedroom become a more controlled, much neater space. The next front is the shed organization. Adding the mattresses requires moving some items as well as the shelving units, and that project is going to move along very slowly due to the weather being so warm right now. The shed is cool for the most part, yet the sun can be unrelenting. Temperature is the primary reason I added two windows and a ridge vent to the design. Over the last few sunny days, I noticed that the mercury does not get out of control in the sunshine. Very good. I will probably move everything a little at a time. There is no hurry since the garage is in very good shape right now. My mural is finished, there is a replacement neon sign in the mail, and I have a plan to streamline the appearance of my favorite space. The clock is nearing noon, meaning I don’t know how productive I’ll be after lunch, but for right now I am feeling fairly positive. The reasons are many, yet I already know they will soon run out and leave me the same sad pile of shit I was prior to so many improvements. Call me whatever you wish. I don’t care. Jamie is on the screen again, looking so far beyond beautiful that I cannot understand, and at the same time I remain in a deep chasm, tempered only by little things here and there. Sad? Oh, yes. Very. Later. I finished everything I set out to do for a change, and then headed to the shed to organize roughly half of what is stored there. Now there is not only a ton of empty space, but room for both beds if I wish to move them out of the house. At least one is going to end up in the shed. I just don’t know what the best choice is as of yet. The loft that I built came in very handy for longer-term items and helped to free up space on both shelving units. So far, the shed is working out better than I had anticipated. Another day is gone and Andrea came to mind last night due to that fucking episode of the second show which comes around in the rotation more than twice per year. Yep, her again. I can’t help it because the resemblance is striking. And yes, I will point out the fact that the episode in question aired more than thirty fucking years ago. Thirty-two, to be precise. I met Andrea at the beginning of eleven, meaning almost twenty years after seeing the girl who would become her twin on the show for the first time. Now I am all fucked up because Andrea is gone and I have to see the other one from time to time when the episode rolls around and she is fucking unbelievably stunning; she will never change, unlike Andrea in reality. I don’t know her anymore, yet she is out there, somewhere, aging. I lost her like I lost everything else. Well, some was thrown away, but the end result is the same... Gigantic holes inside me. And then I see the girl on the television – she resembles Andrea more than I can say, stood nearly the same height, and carries that inexplicable lower facial trait along with similar lips – and the sight causes me to fall off a cliff because of so many losses over the years, some of which are completely unrecoverable. Being reminded of Andrea really hurts these days. More each time, actually. The girl on the television is so high up the fucking scale of beauty that I don’t know how to deal with seeing her. I always seem to overlook the fact that mid-fifth season is the time when she appears and knocks me upside the head, yet I never think about such a fact prior to the episode coming along in the rotation. All those hours of television seem to bleed together, I suppose. Whatever the case, she was up there last night in all her high-definition glory and looking so beautiful that I wanted to run to the ocean and end myself. Loss after loss, and then reminder after reminder of just who and what I’ve become. Thinking about the slipper or my career, achieving the purchase of a home, or other aspects of life which are gone do not hold a candle to being reminded of Andrea or a number of others. The most pain; the deepest loss; the worst feelings. It’s done, though. The episode came and went, along with the next one. Now I can wait six-hundred ninety-three hours for it to come around again (give or take; those are ‘hours’ of television). God damn, that woman is second to the goddess of the universe. Believe it. Lots of pain. Watch your depth of focus field, my dear Between Andrea’s never-aging clone and the realization that came to mind a while back as related to shit situation number two, I am having a very difficult time focusing upon the positives, such as my mural being complete and the shed installation. The space in the garage is at an all-time high and the house continues to improve. All of it is being tempered by feelings of loss and the knowledge that I am not going to improve in the future. I can only embrace the little things for so long before sliding downhill again. Mornings are both bad and good, mostly due to the fact that the purity always comes to mind and makes me sad. The good part is all this time to do whatever I wish. Like most days, I’ll probably do just fine until lunch, at which time I’ll fall down and lose my way. Keeping busy in the afternoon is very difficult these days. I can’t stop recalling the bubble that Andrea and I created all those years ago. The word ‘bliss’ has never had a clearer definition. Ugh. I still need her, damn it. Some time has passed this morning and my kitchen cabinet project failed miserably. Mounting the unit to the wall was not a problem and aligned the doors as I had hoped. That is the good part. The bad? I mounted a bolt latch to the top of the doors and realized the wood that was used for construction may not be ‘all wood’, if that makes any sense. Driving the screws into the wood was a chore because the composition of the stringers and supports is akin to foreign cast iron... There are voids, soft spots and hard spots that forced the screws to be installed crooked. I have no idea of how strong the connections are. Moreover, once I finished installing the bolt, I let go of the doors and they opened again as if nothing had changed. To be honest, I should have been able to predict such a circumstance due to the force required in keeping both doors closed. Shit... The latch did not help at all. Mounting the cabinet top to the wall – straight into a stud – is important for seismic reasons, but ensuring that the doors close and remain closed does not seem possible without some hairbrain assembly, and I am not going any further with that aspect of the project. At this point I see two options. One is to relocate the piece-of-shit to the shed, and the other is to replace it with something better designed and manufactured. All in all, the cabinet has been little more than a pain in my ass. I’m done trying to fix it. For the time being, it will remain as it stands while I consider options. My brain would probably operate more efficiently if one of the two women from the above paragraph was here to hold me up. That statement is a very sad state of affairs. At least I know what I am. From here forward, I am going to try to further organize the shed to allow space for the mattresses, and then move the second dresser into the spare bedroom. The acrylic panels are scheduled to arrive later this afternoon. That means I can finalize at least one part of the bedroom reconfiguration. Better than nothing. Earlier, I considered shelving everything I was going to do in favor of cleaning up and heading to my favorite lunch spot for a little while. I know better, though. The visit would be wonderful, comfortable, and could return my head to a time when there were many options I could exercise when feeling cornered. It happens every time, although the one fact which tends to put the kibosh to my comfort is the idea that I will eventually return home and be no better for the experience. Knowing as much typically keeps me here all day long. That is fucking pathetic. Lunch is not the end of the world for most people, I assume, yet for me it is often precious. I used to go to lunch every other Friday (when I was off work thanks to the 9/80 schedule), write and sit while bantering with the bartender. Those feelings now seem a world away because when I sit there, part of me keeps going back in time and making comparisons to the present period. The past cannot be denied. My work this morning has simply pushed me to wish for something different. A ‘left turn’, if you will. The result will most definitely not be the same as it once was. Some of the past left turns led me to beautiful places. None of them exist anymore, so I will continue my day – half loaded – and expect the same as always... Sadness. The more I think of the girl in that episode, the more I remember Andrea, and then depression washes over me like a wave from the devil himself. Everything is gone. As has been the custom of late, I spent a bit of money on tools in order to lift myself for a few days. This may be all I have left in the world. Not even pizza has been helping lately, and I fucking love pizza. It used to be wonderful. Lately? Pizza is nothing more than a half hour or so of comfort. I know in advance that I’ll be no better for the experience. Isn’t that marvelous? All I've been doing for years is postponing the inevitable. Late afternoon. I did not do much today. The usual stuff came first, and then I continued with my garage efforts. Yesterday I started reconfiguring my toolbox to remove unnecessary items and other crap which has built up in a few drawers over the last five years. I’d like nothing but tools in there, if that makes sense. Raw materials, fasteners, and other stuff need not be in the drawers, especially since the truck has been asleep for quite some time. Regardless of whether or not that machine comes back out of its display case, I don’t want extraneous items floating around space better served by storing tools. The arrival of Friday morning is nearly meaningless. I used to cherish the ‘every other’ Friday off schedule, otherwise known as the 9/80, because we were off at 3:00 in the afternoon on the Fridays we worked, and then off the following week. I loved heading over to one of my favorite places at the time they first opened for the day to sit and write. The bars were always empty at such an early hour and I was very comfortable. I can still do the same thing, however I don’t feel the same anymore because I am not working full-time. The morning stuff is out of the way, and thanks to a very odd dream earlier, my head has not gone sideways. Something is blocking all that shit and allowing me to remain calm and undistorted today. I’m going to roll with it as long as possible because I don’t need any more of that shit. The requisite cocktail is here on the table, like always. For whatever reason, today’s free time feels more valuable than other days. That’s one thing I need to keep in mind, too: The upside of being home nearly all of the time. There are days when the hours resemble a curse. Other days seem to be a godsend. I don’t know why there is such a distinction, but for right now I am going to embrace the emotion. I do need to visit the market in a little while. Hopefully, there is nothing difficult over there today. If something hits me upside the head, it will be nothing new. I’m used to it, much like the idea of recording my thoughts here day after day. The fiction muse has left me, so all I can do is sit and describe my daily activities that rarely change. Maybe I should have gone to my favorite lunch spot. I haven’t visited that place for many months, possibly since last year. I can’t remember. The feeling of sitting there always reminds me of being ‘free’ with my options wide-open. I suppose the restriction is knowing in advance that I will return here and realize the trip cannot be anything but temporary these days. There may be no ‘left turns’ allowed in my future. That time could have passed. Oh, I have the resources to strike in some errant direction, yet the truth is unless the trip is literally (and finally) one-way, I’ll return here to a huge mess. I don’t need that shit. Believe me, I know all about running away. The only way a trip could work would be if I had better resources and different options once the need wore out. That just cannot happen these days. I can remain here, flex whatever is necessary for demonstrating my disdain and dissatisfaction in life, and then move on to the next day to do it all over again. And now the next day is here. See? The same shit. I’ll sit here with coffee, move into the housework for a little while, and then consider methods for not falling off the edge of the world during the afternoon. Splendid. Time and circumstance, motherfucks... Time and fucking circumstance. I completed the drive this morning without issue and have the entire day for whatever seems best. Sometimes I think the feeling of sitting here with coffee and knowing there are many hours ahead is the most positive of a given day. I can see everything as wide-open, rather than all closed up and dark like during the late afternoon. I don’t know why that happens so often. Maybe I just don’t care? Hmm. There are days in which I push just a little bit further and travel past and away from such negative feelings, and when that happens it is generally working on something fairly enjoyable and not too strenuous. Here comes Tony’s girlfriend with her big, partially sunken eyes. She gets more and more intriguing with every watch. I know not why, but big eyes are something I really appreciate. Anyway, I have no clue as to whether or not I’ll push through the difficulties later today. The hour is too early for an accurate prediction, although I will say that the more I bring it up here, the more I try to take any steps necessary for getting through the rest of the day without issue. I have ideas right now, in fact, so perhaps I’ll be ok later. According to LinkedIn, I appeared in two searches performed by someone at Northrop Grumman. Interesting, but I already know that shit will head in no good direction whatsoever. After years of seeing the results of my efforts on such a front, the awareness is acute, clear and right on the fucking target nearly all of the time. Yes, of course, I will take a look, but the truth is there will always be someone younger, more educated, and hungrier for the work than yours truly. My profile on that site is not all roses and bunnies, either. I made a statement about being dissatisfied with the entire ‘career’ process and the way it has been perceived since the outset of the pandemic. I really did. I also gleaned the idea that I know my extensive experience in all those fucking disciplines continues to fade into the past. I can still be someone of not, but without more positivity and education, the others will fly past me as if I am chained to a tree on the side of the information superhighway. Laugh it up. I’ll check back there from time to time. There is little chance of anything developing, but even the slightest possibility means I should not abandon the profile. My negative stance doesn’t help. At least I’m aware of such a fact. There has simply been too much bullshit for me to remain positive. And there goes the love of my life across the screen. Marvelous. Reality? Nope. Savior? Nope. Hence the negative. The last of the coffee is next to me. From here, I don’t know which way I will turn aside from the usual daily housework. The tools will be arriving later, so maybe I can continue to reconfigure the toolbox, plus I need to get the old dresser out of the shed to make room for all three mattresses. I can move two of them myself, but the third is a queen and quite heavy. I’ll require help for that one. I need to move some items that reside in the stud bays, too. I don’t want that shed to end up a big mess. My neighbor’s shed is full to the doors and he is convinced mine will get out of control. Well, he doesn’t realize the level of determination I have to ensure it stays nice and neat with everything accessible. When I want a space to stay nice and neat, I will eventually make it happen regardless of the difficulty. That is that. I’ll see what I can do later this morning. I just need to get Jamie’s big, beautiful eyes and the dreams of her out of my brain. Afterward, I can work. Reality doesn't matter anymore The cocksucking media on MAX is hiccuping again. Damn. It usually smooths out after a while, but in the meantime, the playback is very irritating. I just have to live with it. Anyway, the hour is later and my daily routine is out of the way. The new (replacement) neon sign showed up and it’s beautiful. I’ll have to localize a spot for mounting it in and around all the other shit I have to do in the garage. There is produce – a bag that arrives every Saturday morning from the City – and other items I need to put away, plus some things that have to be boxed and stored so my space is again wide-open. Some of my tools will arrive today and the rest tomorrow, so I’ll be working in the big drawer of my toolbox at some point. Moreover, the cable tray arrived yesterday, meaning I can rework all of the wiring for this big machine and neaten the entire system. Lots to do; plenty of time. For right now, though, I am going to relax here with my massive glass of whiskey and contemplate the order of the day. Jamie’s loving eyes have faded, thank Christ. I love her like nothing else on earth, but God knows I don’t need to dwell. I’ll be out of control during the sixth season. Oh, fuck... Never in my life have I needed a two-second sleeping dream to come true. We were together; we loved each other. I knew everything would be ok. Each occasion of seeing her late in the series diminishes my ability to cope with reality, one notch at a time. She is above all things in the world. Ugh. Onward. I just received a text message from an unknown number asking what I am doing. My reply was, ‘Wondering who in the fuck you are’. I love screwing with people who attempt to defraud others via messages. The last one was a ‘person’ asking if I remembered ‘her’. I received an image – for the second time, mind you – of a stunning Asian woman sitting in some beautiful restaurant. I know what that’s all about. Scams are everywhere these days, so whenever I see a text along such lines, my demeanor is harsh and very unwelcomed. I love it... A touch of fun during an otherwise typical day. I’ve spoken to others about this type of thing, and they generally ignore everything. I, on the other hand, tend to slam the sender with wordsmithing they probably don’t want to see. The practice is enjoyable because I’m always seeking new ways of transmitting my disdain for attempted scams. That just boosted my mood a little bit, believe it or not. Did you notice that the title is cryptic and possibly meaningless? I refuse to be ‘read’. Wow. Ten minutes have passed and I have not received a reply to my harshness. Excellent. Any further responses will be increasingly unpleasant. Perhaps the sender is accustomed to such a personality. Saturday. The morning drive was uneventful aside from a person unhappy with the fact that I stopped at a particular yellow light rather than flying around the corner. I received a ‘head shake’, as if I was the ‘bad guy’. Things like that will keep me from driving at all. Anyway, nothing else of note took place and I am back at the control center – probably where I should have been the entire time. Yesterday I worked in the garage for a little while and now have a head start on the garbage business. I’ll probably take it a little easy this morning and then finish the routine like always. Afterward, I intend to mess around in this office because the cable tray is waiting to be installed and I’d like to get a few things out of this room. Best case, I’ll be able to return the V-track to the drafting table and perhaps even actually used the fucking thing for a change. It’s been in the garage for a few years. Other than those items, I can contemplate the future of the shed. Power; lights; whatever. I had to switch media because Max was again glitching, and combined with additional choppiness in the playback, I could barely stand to listen to a single sentence. Now I have to look at my friend’s clone again. You know... The scary one who is so far beyond beautiful that I can barely understand her face. Jesus. I said scary and I meant it, however. She is fucking frightening. The girl on this program is most decidedly not scary at all. She is amazing and I could spend the rest of my life staring at her gorgeous lips. At some point I may try going back to the other site and see if it’s working better. Right now, I just don’t care enough to make the change. This program is fine for the time being, and that despite my desire to jump into the story and show her just how much I appreciate her appearance. Oy, God. Never me. I really need to streamline things. That statement has graced this content for many years, most notably during the early to mid aughts. Back then I felt quite strongly about breaking free of the ‘typical’ day to day and week to week routines, such as work and all of the time spent both at the location and driving in either direction. Moving south in aught-one really helped and became the shortest commute I had in four years. Later, however, even the shorter drive became tiresome more often than not. The upside was arriving home in the afternoon and the wonderful feeling attached to being out of the car and comfortable in the apartment. During weekend mornings, I’d sit at the old control center and gaze out at the hills to the east, all the while dreaming and yearning to get the fuck out of this state. The interesting part is that the passage of time created the need to go, but I’ve been in this house for twelve years and only recently have I desired a massive change. Naturally, this feeling is far outside all the other shit I’ve railroaded throughout the past four-plus years (almost seven, really, if you go back to the failing fantasy). I guess the drive this morning with its little hiccup brought ‘escape’ back to mind after it had been fairly dormant for years. It will either pass or not; I will either relax about it or not. There is no way to know what my days will be like a year or more from now. God damn does that girl have some lips... So unique and beautiful. Ugh. Stop. Since I can’t go anywhere, I’ll just have to do my best to remain here as much as possible and utilize anything with the ability to either distract me from the shit or allow me to feel comfortable while home. I don’t have many choices these days. One huge plus is no longer needing to go to work. I simply MUST keep that in mind. Control over most of my time has become very important and I need to appreciate each moment. To this very day, a thought pops into my head each night when I climb into bed, and that is to consider the value of having a warm place to sleep. That may sound simple, but there are many who have much less than myself. I will remain mindful of all the little positives I have right now and try to leave my dreams of escape and quiet to the side for as long as possible. The last of the coffee is here on the table. Once consumed, I’ll rise and work on the routine with my friends in the background. At some point, a set of tools will arrive and I’ll be able to get them put away. At that point, I may continue to work in the garage and consider options for the shed. That space has to remain neat and everything must be accessible. Perhaps when cocktail hour arrives, I can shut this system down and try to get the cable tray installed. I very rarely do anything without some sort of media playing, and that means I’ll have to boot the laptop for a little while. Yep, I am almost completely dependent upon my library of video media. Without it, I am not a happy person. And yes, that means even less happy than on a typical day. Yesterday (and the previous day, I believe), the episodes that had been playing on and off as I worked around the house originally aired during the glowing years. I’ve progressed, meaning the latest episode aired during the fall of ninety-two. Once the ‘glow’ episodes are behind me, I won’t yearn so badly to travel back in time. I believe just a year earlier – ninety-one – was very important and the best representation of just how fulfilling and enjoyable life can be. Er... Could be. Whatever. The point is that when those times come to mind, everything looks like shit; truncated, sad, and very difficult. I will be thinking about all of this as soon as I begin playback of the second series in a little while. The rotation will move along to the fifth show shortly thereafter (maybe in another week or two) and the glow will again be positioned far enough back in my mind for me to relax a bit. The more I think about the way life was during that short period, the more I miss it. I don’t expect to watch time pass in large quantities and see nothing change, but after decades the gradient is enormous. There are several aspects to that period which are often compared to the present, two of which I’ve brought to this space in the past. The third? Nope. I have trouble just thinking about it. The series brings me back and makes me sad, yet I still love to watch those people. Monday morning and not all is well... Sideways; sad; buried within a hole fashioned from memories. I am having problems and will need to distract myself quite a bit today if I am to see tomorrow. This is so fucking unacceptable that I can’t believe it. This is only day two. Think of all the other days yet to pass." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Day Two Mature content No. 414 Published June 10th, 2024 8:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Well, another essay has been completed but not published. The shape of things to come shall be short blurbs visible, changing from time to time, yet nothing substantial or remotely personal will appear in the public domain. I don’t want my feelings out there floating amongst the detritus. I’ve said that before, too. The idea never stuck for very long because I was impatient. Now? What’s different? I must remain behind a construct for my own peace of mind. I don’t know if this situation will change anytime soon, nor do I have a plan for the long term. And? I don’t care. Never take issue with a guy wearing red leather pants, especially if he hails from Calabria. That will not go over well. Don’t even get me started on the Sicilians. Just a thought. The last of the coffee on this Wednesday morning. The drive was a bit slow due to lots of commuters, but it came and went like always. I have the rest of the day to continue where I left off yesterday with storage and organization. The dinner I created last night turned out very well and there is enough left for another meal this evening. That means my late afternoon work will be very simple. Oh, boy is Gloria fucking scary and strange in this episode. I never enjoyed the scenes at the zoo. Sometimes I skip them because there is an aspect of one scene that is rather disgusting. Ugh. Whatever. She is not here, thank Christ, and there is little chance I’d be concerned with such a situation in the future. I see too much sometimes, but just enough during more important moments. Ooh-fa. The weather is sunny and the air cool, but the warmth of the sun is too much for physical work in the backyard. I moved a few more items, organized part of the garage, and built a temporary step to the shed. Oy. There is a ton of empty space in the garage now, meaning whenever I work out there I need not be concerned about what goes where. I formulated a plan to build a loft above roughly forty percent of the shed space. One day soon I’ll visit the hardware store for a few hangers so I can put it up. The area will be thirty-two square feet and the lower portion of the loft will be nearly eight feet off the floor. Not bad. That will be long-term storage. The important aspects of this change in the household is to allow the car to fit in the garage each day and to free up storage for much-needed items inside the house. I don’t like foraging for things whenever the need arises. I went to the big wine store and saw that petite beauty again. There is something about her face which frightens me, however. I usually see her in one place or another (I believe she’s an assistant manager), and always in super-tight yoga pants that leave nothing to the imagination. I’ve seen her so many times that her lines don’t hit me upside the head very much anymore. As I said, she’s rather scary. Aside from seeing that gorgeous woman again, my order had a few incorrect items but it’s not a big deal; partly my fault for not checking the items prior to leaving the store. Upon returning home, I took care of the routine and poured myself a nice, cold glass of depressing liquid for posterity. The fact that I purchase whiskey in 1.75L bottles six at a time is probably not a good thing, but I will also say that when the bar is full, I am much more comfortable. Eh... Both facts are indicative of my need to escape reality, much like the third image here. She is not real – just like several other images of beauty that I’ve included in recent entries – and the more I consider my condition, the more I realize how distorted my life has become. All of the fictional programming I follow, the imagery toward which I tend to gravitate, and the nature of my thought processes as they have changed since the first damaging dream have combined to create the most skewed version of myself imaginable. I used to be quite different, honestly. I really was different, and I don’t just mean during the glowing years. There was more. Now? I have no future. There is no savior. There is probably a ‘her’, but I’ll never know. Staring at that woman’s legs at the store was tiny when held against the stark image of what I have become. All that shit adds up to the reason I no longer publish anything. Friday; nearly meaningless. I have coffee and my program is running. In a little while I will take care of half the routine and then visit the market for a few items. Afterward, the only priority will be a continuation of straightening two rooms inside the house and ensuring that the garage enjoys lots of empty space. I really don’t know what else to do these days. I am having trouble with every step of every day. I can’t extricate certain very specific images from my brain long enough to fully concentrate on anything. The damaging dreams have been taking their toll on my ability to cope with reality and understand why such a change came about in the first place. My work around the house is solely for trying to push everything away (suppression, for sure) long enough to think clearly. I can’t stop seeing her and I can’t disregard such a strong desire to... Never mind. My brain is out of fucking control. I’ll get through the day like always, but the truth is I am finding less and less reason to even try in the first place. I went to the market and hardware store and then returned to finish my morning housework. Thankfully, there was nothing to see. Very good. The hardware will allow me to fully build and install a loft in the shed. I don’t know if I’ll complete it today, though, because I am not feeling up to snuff like the past several days. Maybe after lunch I’ll feel like working out there. Aside from the loft, I picked up a bolt latch for the kitchen cabinet that has not remained closed due to design and/or manufacturing flaws. I believe I can make it work. Once installed, I can work on relaxing the left door which is bowed quite a bit. The best method is to force the door to bow in the opposite fashion and then clamp it. The process will take weeks because training the wood is not a quick and easy fix. I may also fasten the main component to the decorative slats that are on the front. That may help train the wood to flatten some. Worst case, I’ll relocate the cabinet to the shed and find a replacement for the kitchen. I have my eye on a similar unit that is likely better designed, plus it would be delivered by truck and forklift rather than shipped across the ocean. My fat cocktail is helping to smooth the late morning. Call me what you will... I don’t fucking care anymore. Saturday. Ugh... A glimpse of her just for a moment yesterday and right there before my hungry eyes was a reminder of something that took place way back in nineteen (I think it was that year, anyway). All I can say is that it had to do with a certain person – one who is attractive and scary, sweet and powerful (not my type at all) – as she left one of the job sites while we returned to work. She owned the home in which we had been working, and little did I know that the job for her would not be the last. In fact, we worked quite a bit in her own home not long after the aforementioned work was wrapped up. I’ve rarely seen that type of maneuver, especially with regard to someone near my own age. As for the other one, the vision went straight into me and then traveled back in time just to drive me up the fucking wall. The gradient became illuminated, and then my own life was called into question... The changes which have come about in the last couple of years. Not good. Believe me, you don’t want to know the details. I saw her for that short period of time, fell into a pit again because I can’t have her in ANY fucking way that is conceivable, and nearly lost my way entirely before righting myself to continue the afternoon. My brain became saturated with imaginary pictures swirling themselves into a froth. Prior to the sight of her fucking pants and everything contained therein, I built nearly all of the loft. After the sighting? All I could do was sweep the floors of the shed and garage. I became worthless. The early morning business is out of the way and my head is completely sideways because of a wildlife program on the television. I usually have the news running during the morning, but this being Saturday means the choices are limited, in part due to the need to stream live television through the Internet. Anyway, there was an intern who traveled to the UK to assist veterinarians there and learn. She was gorgeous and had the frame and form of the Raven. Those jeans are not very popular anymore (I believe), having been replaced with designs carrying much higher waistlines. The low-rise style did a much better job of accentuating the relationship between waist and hips, not to mention the way the upper thighs can be shown off thanks to an extremely short zipper (or button fly, whichever). The girl on the program had lines up the wazoo – almost fully visible – medium brown hair framing those very special facial features that I love so much, and moved with the fluid nature of a person with no idea whatsoever that she is an enigma and something to be cherished for all time. I worshiped her for a few minutes and then finished my morning stuff. Now I have her image in my brain. There is a certain very specific mechanical relationship between that style of pants and the numbers that took over my life some twenty-odd years ago. I can’t describe it, but I will say that nothing on earth drives me up the wall more quickly or effectively than seeing an ideal example of such an amazing form. The Raven had it in spades and allowed me to stare to my heart’s content, or at least until She became uncomfortable due to all the gushing about Her beauty. I had to back off at times and I fully understood why. The girl on the television was very similar, although she carried that lower-face thingy (like Nora) that I still can’t fucking describe no matter how hard I try. I know a good amount of words, but still not enough. The rest of this morning will be spent right here at the control center because I need to consider how much worse these types of sightings hit me as opposed to just a year ago. This is fucking insane. I can’t believe the massive amount of emotion that flowed through me when I saw her smile. Yes, the torment and pain were present, but the more time that passes, the more desperation I feel during those moments, as if I am missing out on something that will disappear forever. It hurts, deeply. My heart has been involving itself for months now, and I can barely maintain myself each day. What I saw yesterday was equally powerful, yet very different and I can’t say why. Just know that the pain I feel when I see those aspects of beauty is increasing and disallowing clear thinking at the most fundamental level. That is to say I am having more trouble functioning like a real person than ever before. I wish I hadn’t seen that girl on the television. This situation inside my head is a clear indication of my present condition, and when combined with the damaging dreams and how they have skewed my way of thinking, the image of myself compared to some years ago is so different that I cannot understand it. The shit situations continue to grade aside any possibility of me finding inner peace. Today is going to be tough. I will have to push hard to come out the other side upright. I don't even know where to fuckin' start Ugh. Reality. Not good. I do not deal well with the rigors of being aware that human beings have a finite time to live. I am not going into a massive philosophical rant, either. We have been given the questionable gift of knowing that we are going to die. Other creatures – aside from humans, of course... I am referring to the INNOCENT species who greatly outnumber the stupid (all) people – have no idea of the finite nature of existence, and thankfully so. We are the ones who use up everything and continue to advance all that the other creatures cannot. We progress for all the good it can do. Sometimes I think about everything and wonder about the point of it all, and other times I simply go with the flow and do my best to be productive and comfortable. Today seems to be a combination of the two, good or bad as that may be. The Sunday morning drive came and went without incident, plus I did not stop at the market like usual, so I am at the control center earlier than the average weekend. Very good. I need some time to think after dealing with last night and trying to fall asleep. My brain would not stop thinking about the shed, my car (the slipper) and other things that I need to do now that the former is in place and available. As for the car, well... I am having trouble with that topic but it will not leave me alone. I’ve been considering certain aspects of life that have disappeared, and my desire to own and drive certain very specific models may now be one of them. Ugh. I keep saying that because the little enjoyments continue to shrink in their ability to hold me up. I did eventually fall asleep, of course, and awakened today ready for the drive. Well, I was more ready to arrive back home, but you know what I mean. Some are sharp in the morning and others are a bit foggy and slow to get going. I just happen to be one of the sharp people. Now I can do whatever the fuck I need for the rest of the day. Nice. I have a few ideas for storage now that the loft is finished, plus a plan for the empty space that will be created in the garage cabinets. I’ll get to a few things once the coffee is gone. As for the inside of my head and all that shit from yesterday, nothing has changed. I’ve just been pushing back in order to function like a grown-up person. The shit will eventually push back hard enough to put me down. I already know. The other essay that I mention from time to time is entitled ‘The Reason’, just in case I do decide to die. At least certain people will know why. I might work on that one again, soon. As my head goes through the motions of living in these late days, sometimes the feelings become too powerful to quash. I need that little outlet. I only bring it up because the dreamy nature of the past comes to mind each and every day no matter what else may be taking place. The information pushes me and I need to do something about it. Right now, for example, and within this paragraph, I’ve been discussing what can be done today, but all the while the back of my mind keeps returning to certain situations from years ago that are so powerful that I can’t shove them away, ever. Even in the midst of something important, the feelings slam me over and over. I can’t do anything about anything these days. I’ll continue to work and try to push back because I can’t just fucking sit here all the time. One day, everything will stop and that other essay will be all that is left of yours truly. Splendid. I know not when, but one day. For whatever reason, that ‘thing’ that I’ve never been able to understand or explain (and that despite a long discussion with someone that is very important to me but gone) returned to my mind this morning and I keep wondering if I need to leave it alone to avoid being overly sad. I just don’t know. The operation, for lack of a better term, is something so wondrous that I still can’t believe it, and this after years of consideration. I know what it is for the most part, I just don’t understand how or why it may take place during certain situations. I don’t get it. I suppose considering the way things have changed over the years – including the way I have been completely damned by dreams – I’ll never know, nor will the experience be a possibility for me. All this shit continues to make me wonder why I am sitting here, why I still try to help other people, and what I may be waiting for. Do you know? Fuck off. You don’t know anything. What I know is that the situation, the ‘thing’, is real because I’ve seen and experienced it. If the possibility is gone, I’ll see it as nothing more than another reason to die. I feel so empty and broken right now that all the effort in the world will be required if I am to get anything done today. As I’ve said many times, with each passing day there is less reason for me to help others. Eventually it will be completely gone and I won’t be able to find a reason to save my life. Cocktail hour has arrived, thank the maker. I finished the routine with my extended family in the background. I need to keep the house fairly quiet for a while, or at least until I have the place to myself until evening. I’ll take care of laundry and garbage in a little while. The French girl will be on the screen soon, meaning my brain will create scenarios in which she is with me and involved in physical situations that I shall not describe here. I’ve already done that plenty. Fucking hell, though... The things that go through my head when she walks away from the camera are absolutely criminal. Don’t even get me started when her character complains that Artie’s gnocchi is going to cause her to ‘get a belly’, and then she lifts her top to reveal no such circumstance. Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch... What I wouldn’t give to... Eh, never mind. I’ve had the hots for that girl for so many years now that I don’t even know where to begin. And now Devin is on the screen (all through this episode and a few others later during the series). Fuck me in a muddy ditch in winter... She is the very definition of damaging, much like the dreams. Ugh. Whatever. If only... NOPE. Thank God I am an alcoholic. ‘None of that for me’ means I need some sort of crutch to hold me up during those moments when the desire becomes out of fucking control. Yep... I am weaker than one may believe. Trust me when I say that what goes through my head these days when I see something special has never been fully described on the site. Never. I can’t do that because I already appear bad enough. I should refrain from pointing out that my desire to plant my lips and tongue to the French girl’s labia for a calendar month. My feelings are stronger than that, too. Wait... What did I say? Labia. Lips. I would worship her sex until my death. Didn’t I say I was going to leave out the details? She would find herself wholly aware of the depth of my desire. But remember, I can’t say anything for reasons of good form. My tongue would come out of her fucking nose in ten seconds. The universe has forsaken me. As for the storage and organization, I have no idea how I will feel later today, so the work may or may not take place. To be honest, I feel like cruising over the hill to sit at my favorite lunch spot for a little while. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll visit that restaurant/bar and do some writing. After all these years, feeling even the tiniest bit free usually calls for stepping outside my normal life and embracing the time-honored tradition of relaxing with some excellent food and alcohol while typing into the cloud. My ideas for different road trips seem to lead nowhere, and the fact that very few of my preferred destinations around this area have disappeared adds up to a feeling akin to lashing out. My path through life continues to narrow. I have to do something that remotely resembles better days. This episode shows me the French girl, Devin and her unbelievably cute demeanor, and Jamie in some of the most adorable shots imaginable. The combination is forcing me to sip this whiskey at an even greater rate than on a typical day. I will eventually get some things done. I always do. Thankfully, dinner will be reheated leftovers. Very simple. Whatever happened during last night that has left the hearing in my ‘good’ ear’s narrowed frequency response has been baffling. My good ear was the one that provided detail, as in high frequency definition. I don’t know if this will pass or not, but I will say that if it does not, I have one additional reason to commit suicide. Maybe I should refill my drink, consume it, and then go to bed for a few hours. Depression is not an enjoyable state of mind. Storage and organization... Yeah, whatever. AJ is upset that Devin didn’t tell him that her family is very rich. What a fucking idiot. He could have had something I’ve desired for years, not to mention a lack of concern about the cost of daily comfort. Jesus. Had that been me? Oh, Hell... I would have made my feelings very clear for a very long time. I’d have worshiped every fucking aspect of that girl until she tossed me aside. Never me. Just... NEVER ME. My time has all but passed. Curious; age does alter one’s mindset. Too bad I didn’t see it years ago. Can you imagine her little vagina? Can you imagine how fucking adorable it was back then? Am I being disrespectful, or am I being honest? I am a ‘he’ who is attracted to a ‘she’, so speaking my mind should not be a problem as long as I do not treat her as an object or demean her in any way. I am only speaking of something that is a draw for me. Her little labia, nothing more. Yes, she is a person above all other things, but due to me being an absolute nobody sitting here alone with my thoughts day after day, the only recourse I have is to vent every now and then, and this time the topic just happens to be that girl in the show from more than twenty years ago. None of it matters, so I’d better not get in trouble for this. Tell me there is a person who does not think in such terms. Go for it. The point is AJ could have had the girl, the gold watch and everything. Too bad he was a fuckin’ idiot. I had the girl, the silver watch and nothing, but that was another story; a fictional story. Devin is a food group. My girl in the story was a machine. Devin is a character portrayed by a real person. Twenty years of being obsessed with the example above Monday morning has appeared regardless of my feelings. Time rolls on, rolls over me, and rolls very quickly when I am not paying attention. There is no stopping the progression of events. I have coffee and a wide-open schedule, though, so as of now the day does not appear bad. The purity has created an absolutely heartbreaking situation in my mind and I feel it every fucking day. This morning is no different. There was an amazing scene some years ago that took place in reality and caught me off-guard. Some time later I realized the topic was very real, and now I can’t seem to escape the idea that the most important aspects of living are all gone. Things are changing and there is nothing I can do about it. What took place cannot easily be explained, either. Well, there is no one available. Not much point in trying at all. It just hurts so much. No way out of this. There is no way out. I just have to lump it. It's Tuesday now. Does that matter? Pointing out the changing of the calendar from one day to the next? No one is going to give a shit. It’s rather like telling people too long of a story about something personal. Part way through your bullshit, they will lose interest. I’ve been stating the day of the week – not every single time, but most – for years, mostly since the outset of the pandemic, I believe. I suppose there is nothing else to break into the beginning of a morning paragraph. Shit, I don’t know. Daily stuff; the routine, housework, laundry, dry cleaning, organization... Those items are my entire life because the holes inside me cannot realistically be filled by anyone or anything else. There is the idea of the savior, but she is about as likely as growing wings and flying myself to Vegas without a plane ticket. I don’t enjoy considering my place in the world. I enjoy lunch, though. Dinner sometimes, too. The rest is simply filler, as if I am waiting for something to happen. Wait... What? What did you say? Get out there and FIND what I need? Right. That’s simple. Combine about ten different personalities and then inject them into a woman presenting the extremely rare physical appearance that must be aligned with my obsession. Good fucking luck. There is nothing left for me in the world. Coffee, I guess. The time is just shy of nine o’clock and I plan to take it easy for a little while longer. There is always plenty to do. I just need to find some ambition to push through the morning and make it to afternoon time. I found it. Some of my stuff is finished. I also cleaned the cat steps and returned them to their previous place next to the master bed. Also, I mounted the left-hand display with an arm; a single version of the double arm holding the center and right-hand displays. It’s been residing in the garage for the last few months because I figured it was not completely necessary and decided to use it for a television out there. Well, I changed my mind again and installed the smaller, curved display back where it was above my toolbox. I am awaiting a cable management tray that mounts to the back of this table. When it arrives (probably Friday), I’ll straighten everything and power the display. I also need to install the new microphone that came in the mail the other day. Everything should come together once the tray is here. Initially, I was concerned about the way it mounts to the rear of the table, but later realized that the mounting style doesn’t matter. I can customize it however I wish. Some peripherals and accessories which clamp to a table do not fit very well, but I am just the person to employ power tools and whatnot in order to adapt the product as needed. No big deal. This table is seventy-four by thirty-two inches and holds everything necessary for me to write, watch, edit or whatever else feels like a priority on any given day. In fact, the table is so large that I can operate this machine with all three displays and there is still plenty of room for the laptop, just in case I need to access older files or software. Not for nothing, but I inherited this table from the federal government some years ago and it was built by a contracted company in 1952. Just a thought. I used to have all sorts of things from that era. Now I have very little. The main reason I wanted some things from NASA’s glorious history in my house was because I felt a deep connection to them. Some of those items have gone away. Very few remain in my possession. I don’t even know why I brought up the fucking table. Maybe I was feeling the memories. Maybe I am a fucking idiot. Anyway, the day will move along and I’ll do whatever seems best. Ugh. I saw her again, just for a few seconds. Jesus. I wish that hadn’t happened, but at the moment I was gazing toward the street and then... SMACK! Her form hit me right in the face and caught me right the hell off-guard again. Damn. Sometimes I just can’t understand her shape. Eh... Fuck it. The sight is gone and will occur again. I just have to fucking deal with it. So I connected the microphone to check this out and see how it's going to work with Google Docs. I guess it's not bad, and I wanted to do this for some time because the interface while typing can be clumsy. Still good, but clumsy. What I will probably do is try out the microphone for a few days beginning with tomorrow morning and then make a decision on whether or not this is the best way to go for faster input to the documents. Sometimes when I'm working around the house I get ideas on what I need to say or other aspects of my mind that should be explored, but by the time I sit at the editor they fade too much for me to recall. Memory is not a fun thing to deal with as we age. The previous entry ended with a very sad note or should I say ON a very sad note. I recalled shit situation number two for the billionth time and remembered a small but very significant detail that had been lost in the wasteland of my head for many years. I just noticed that when I curse into the microphone, the interface replaces some of the letters with asterisks. That is damned funny. I need to go back with the mouse and keyboard to correct the errors. Heh. Anyway, I’ll be trying to use this thing when the mood strikes, regardless of the necessity of returning and manually replacing individual letters. Now, where was I? Ah, yes... The added detail of shit situation number two. The worst aspect of recalling something that had been lost for so many years is that it is related to one person that is still living. Moreover, and worse, is the fact that said person is the sole soul with whom I’ve been in contact within my family for the last decade-plus, the rest having passed away over the years. This is not good and has been causing anger on and off for quite a while now. I believe the realization came about during the past month or so. I need to think about everything some more prior to making any changes. This is just all bad. I had thought for a long time that the situation was fine – though I consider the negative effects that shit has had on me for decades, mostly throughout the last four years of analysis – and now I see that the issue has been larger than originally thought. I can’t even slam the fucking door on anyone. Not one person is available. The next day is here regardless of whether or not I am ready. On the upside, the morning has progressed, I have a nice, fat cocktail, and the routine is finished. I also clamped some wood to the kitchen cabinet door in hopes of training it to relax, or at least lessen the amount that the handle side is bowed. The plan is to leave the training system in place for a week or so, mount the back of the cabinet to the wall, and then install a latch across the tops of the doors so they stay closed and aligned. Both doors have issues and the latch will help one of them. The other is dependent upon how well my reverse bow system works over time. On another front, I ordered three plastic panels and corner pieces to surround the litter boxes. One (or both, possibly) of the cats has been overshooting the top edges of the boxes, so I have to get something in place that will block the liquid. The cats are getting older, meaning I’ll have to do my best to help them when the need arises. I don’t mind because I love those little guys. Moreover, once the panels are surrounding the boxes – both sit upon a plastic tray – I can continue improving that room. Both beds are going to be relocated to the shed, one dresser will take their place, and one tree will be moved to the master bedroom. In all, there are lots of changes that should help the spare bedroom become a more controlled, much neater space. The next front is the shed organization. Adding the mattresses requires moving some items as well as the shelving units, and that project is going to move along very slowly due to the weather being so warm right now. The shed is cool for the most part, yet the sun can be unrelenting. Temperature is the primary reason I added two windows and a ridge vent to the design. Over the last few sunny days, I noticed that the mercury does not get out of control in the sunshine. Very good. I will probably move everything a little at a time. There is no hurry since the garage is in very good shape right now. My mural is finished, there is a replacement neon sign in the mail, and I have a plan to streamline the appearance of my favorite space. The clock is nearing noon, meaning I don’t know how productive I’ll be after lunch, but for right now I am feeling fairly positive. The reasons are many, yet I already know they will soon run out and leave me the same sad pile of shit I was prior to so many improvements. Call me whatever you wish. I don’t care. Jamie is on the screen again, looking so far beyond beautiful that I cannot understand, and at the same time I remain in a deep chasm, tempered only by little things here and there. Sad? Oh, yes. Very. Later. I finished everything I set out to do for a change, and then headed to the shed to organize roughly half of what is stored there. Now there is not only a ton of empty space, but room for both beds if I wish to move them out of the house. At least one is going to end up in the shed. I just don’t know what the best choice is as of yet. The loft that I built came in very handy for longer-term items and helped to free up space on both shelving units. So far, the shed is working out better than I had anticipated. Another day is gone and Andrea came to mind last night due to that fucking episode of the second show which comes around in the rotation more than twice per year. Yep, her again. I can’t help it because the resemblance is striking. And yes, I will point out the fact that the episode in question aired more than thirty fucking years ago. Thirty-two, to be precise. I met Andrea at the beginning of eleven, meaning almost twenty years after seeing the girl who would become her twin on the show for the first time. Now I am all fucked up because Andrea is gone and I have to see the other one from time to time when the episode rolls around and she is fucking unbelievably stunning; she will never change, unlike Andrea in reality. I don’t know her anymore, yet she is out there, somewhere, aging. I lost her like I lost everything else. Well, some was thrown away, but the end result is the same... Gigantic holes inside me. And then I see the girl on the television – she resembles Andrea more than I can say, stood nearly the same height, and carries that inexplicable lower facial trait along with similar lips – and the sight causes me to fall off a cliff because of so many losses over the years, some of which are completely unrecoverable. Being reminded of Andrea really hurts these days. More each time, actually. The girl on the television is so high up the fucking scale of beauty that I don’t know how to deal with seeing her. I always seem to overlook the fact that mid-fifth season is the time when she appears and knocks me upside the head, yet I never think about such a fact prior to the episode coming along in the rotation. All those hours of television seem to bleed together, I suppose. Whatever the case, she was up there last night in all her high-definition glory and looking so beautiful that I wanted to run to the ocean and end myself. Loss after loss, and then reminder after reminder of just who and what I’ve become. Thinking about the slipper or my career, achieving the purchase of a home, or other aspects of life which are gone do not hold a candle to being reminded of Andrea or a number of others. The most pain; the deepest loss; the worst feelings. It’s done, though. The episode came and went, along with the next one. Now I can wait six-hundred ninety-three hours for it to come around again (give or take; those are ‘hours’ of television). God damn, that woman is second to the goddess of the universe. Believe it. Lots of pain. Watch your depth of focus field, my dear Between Andrea’s never-aging clone and the realization that came to mind a while back as related to shit situation number two, I am having a very difficult time focusing upon the positives, such as my mural being complete and the shed installation. The space in the garage is at an all-time high and the house continues to improve. All of it is being tempered by feelings of loss and the knowledge that I am not going to improve in the future. I can only embrace the little things for so long before sliding downhill again. Mornings are both bad and good, mostly due to the fact that the purity always comes to mind and makes me sad. The good part is all this time to do whatever I wish. Like most days, I’ll probably do just fine until lunch, at which time I’ll fall down and lose my way. Keeping busy in the afternoon is very difficult these days. I can’t stop recalling the bubble that Andrea and I created all those years ago. The word ‘bliss’ has never had a clearer definition. Ugh. I still need her, damn it. Some time has passed this morning and my kitchen cabinet project failed miserably. Mounting the unit to the wall was not a problem and aligned the doors as I had hoped. That is the good part. The bad? I mounted a bolt latch to the top of the doors and realized the wood that was used for construction may not be ‘all wood’, if that makes any sense. Driving the screws into the wood was a chore because the composition of the stringers and supports is akin to foreign cast iron... There are voids, soft spots and hard spots that forced the screws to be installed crooked. I have no idea of how strong the connections are. Moreover, once I finished installing the bolt, I let go of the doors and they opened again as if nothing had changed. To be honest, I should have been able to predict such a circumstance due to the force required in keeping both doors closed. Shit... The latch did not help at all. Mounting the cabinet top to the wall – straight into a stud – is important for seismic reasons, but ensuring that the doors close and remain closed does not seem possible without some hairbrain assembly, and I am not going any further with that aspect of the project. At this point I see two options. One is to relocate the piece-of-shit to the shed, and the other is to replace it with something better designed and manufactured. All in all, the cabinet has been little more than a pain in my ass. I’m done trying to fix it. For the time being, it will remain as it stands while I consider options. My brain would probably operate more efficiently if one of the two women from the above paragraph was here to hold me up. That statement is a very sad state of affairs. At least I know what I am. From here forward, I am going to try to further organize the shed to allow space for the mattresses, and then move the second dresser into the spare bedroom. The acrylic panels are scheduled to arrive later this afternoon. That means I can finalize at least one part of the bedroom reconfiguration. Better than nothing. Earlier, I considered shelving everything I was going to do in favor of cleaning up and heading to my favorite lunch spot for a little while. I know better, though. The visit would be wonderful, comfortable, and could return my head to a time when there were many options I could exercise when feeling cornered. It happens every time, although the one fact which tends to put the kibosh to my comfort is the idea that I will eventually return home and be no better for the experience. Knowing as much typically keeps me here all day long. That is fucking pathetic. Lunch is not the end of the world for most people, I assume, yet for me it is often precious. I used to go to lunch every other Friday (when I was off work thanks to the 9/80 schedule), write and sit while bantering with the bartender. Those feelings now seem a world away because when I sit there, part of me keeps going back in time and making comparisons to the present period. The past cannot be denied. My work this morning has simply pushed me to wish for something different. A ‘left turn’, if you will. The result will most definitely not be the same as it once was. Some of the past left turns led me to beautiful places. None of them exist anymore, so I will continue my day – half loaded – and expect the same as always... Sadness. The more I think of the girl in that episode, the more I remember Andrea, and then depression washes over me like a wave from the devil himself. Everything is gone. As has been the custom of late, I spent a bit of money on tools in order to lift myself for a few days. This may be all I have left in the world. Not even pizza has been helping lately, and I fucking love pizza. It used to be wonderful. Lately? Pizza is nothing more than a half hour or so of comfort. I know in advance that I’ll be no better for the experience. Isn’t that marvelous? All I've been doing for years is postponing the inevitable. Late afternoon. I did not do much today. The usual stuff came first, and then I continued with my garage efforts. Yesterday I started reconfiguring my toolbox to remove unnecessary items and other crap which has built up in a few drawers over the last five years. I’d like nothing but tools in there, if that makes sense. Raw materials, fasteners, and other stuff need not be in the drawers, especially since the truck has been asleep for quite some time. Regardless of whether or not that machine comes back out of its display case, I don’t want extraneous items floating around space better served by storing tools. The arrival of Friday morning is nearly meaningless. I used to cherish the ‘every other’ Friday off schedule, otherwise known as the 9/80, because we were off at 3:00 in the afternoon on the Fridays we worked, and then off the following week. I loved heading over to one of my favorite places at the time they first opened for the day to sit and write. The bars were always empty at such an early hour and I was very comfortable. I can still do the same thing, however I don’t feel the same anymore because I am not working full-time. The morning stuff is out of the way, and thanks to a very odd dream earlier, my head has not gone sideways. Something is blocking all that shit and allowing me to remain calm and undistorted today. I’m going to roll with it as long as possible because I don’t need any more of that shit. The requisite cocktail is here on the table, like always. For whatever reason, today’s free time feels more valuable than other days. That’s one thing I need to keep in mind, too: The upside of being home nearly all of the time. There are days when the hours resemble a curse. Other days seem to be a godsend. I don’t know why there is such a distinction, but for right now I am going to embrace the emotion. I do need to visit the market in a little while. Hopefully, there is nothing difficult over there today. If something hits me upside the head, it will be nothing new. I’m used to it, much like the idea of recording my thoughts here day after day. The fiction muse has left me, so all I can do is sit and describe my daily activities that rarely change. Maybe I should have gone to my favorite lunch spot. I haven’t visited that place for many months, possibly since last year. I can’t remember. The feeling of sitting there always reminds me of being ‘free’ with my options wide-open. I suppose the restriction is knowing in advance that I will return here and realize the trip cannot be anything but temporary these days. There may be no ‘left turns’ allowed in my future. That time could have passed. Oh, I have the resources to strike in some errant direction, yet the truth is unless the trip is literally (and finally) one-way, I’ll return here to a huge mess. I don’t need that shit. Believe me, I know all about running away. The only way a trip could work would be if I had better resources and different options once the need wore out. That just cannot happen these days. I can remain here, flex whatever is necessary for demonstrating my disdain and dissatisfaction in life, and then move on to the next day to do it all over again. And now the next day is here. See? The same shit. I’ll sit here with coffee, move into the housework for a little while, and then consider methods for not falling off the edge of the world during the afternoon. Splendid. Time and circumstance, motherfucks... Time and fucking circumstance. I completed the drive this morning without issue and have the entire day for whatever seems best. Sometimes I think the feeling of sitting here with coffee and knowing there are many hours ahead is the most positive of a given day. I can see everything as wide-open, rather than all closed up and dark like during the late afternoon. I don’t know why that happens so often. Maybe I just don’t care? Hmm. There are days in which I push just a little bit further and travel past and away from such negative feelings, and when that happens it is generally working on something fairly enjoyable and not too strenuous. Here comes Tony’s girlfriend with her big, partially sunken eyes. She gets more and more intriguing with every watch. I know not why, but big eyes are something I really appreciate. Anyway, I have no clue as to whether or not I’ll push through the difficulties later today. The hour is too early for an accurate prediction, although I will say that the more I bring it up here, the more I try to take any steps necessary for getting through the rest of the day without issue. I have ideas right now, in fact, so perhaps I’ll be ok later. According to LinkedIn, I appeared in two searches performed by someone at Northrop Grumman. Interesting, but I already know that shit will head in no good direction whatsoever. After years of seeing the results of my efforts on such a front, the awareness is acute, clear and right on the fucking target nearly all of the time. Yes, of course, I will take a look, but the truth is there will always be someone younger, more educated, and hungrier for the work than yours truly. My profile on that site is not all roses and bunnies, either. I made a statement about being dissatisfied with the entire ‘career’ process and the way it has been perceived since the outset of the pandemic. I really did. I also gleaned the idea that I know my extensive experience in all those fucking disciplines continues to fade into the past. I can still be someone of not, but without more positivity and education, the others will fly past me as if I am chained to a tree on the side of the information superhighway. Laugh it up. I’ll check back there from time to time. There is little chance of anything developing, but even the slightest possibility means I should not abandon the profile. My negative stance doesn’t help. At least I’m aware of such a fact. There has simply been too much bullshit for me to remain positive. And there goes the love of my life across the screen. Marvelous. Reality? Nope. Savior? Nope. Hence the negative. The last of the coffee is next to me. From here, I don’t know which way I will turn aside from the usual daily housework. The tools will be arriving later, so maybe I can continue to reconfigure the toolbox, plus I need to get the old dresser out of the shed to make room for all three mattresses. I can move two of them myself, but the third is a queen and quite heavy. I’ll require help for that one. I need to move some items that reside in the stud bays, too. I don’t want that shed to end up a big mess. My neighbor’s shed is full to the doors and he is convinced mine will get out of control. Well, he doesn’t realize the level of determination I have to ensure it stays nice and neat with everything accessible. When I want a space to stay nice and neat, I will eventually make it happen regardless of the difficulty. That is that. I’ll see what I can do later this morning. I just need to get Jamie’s big, beautiful eyes and the dreams of her out of my brain. Afterward, I can work. Reality doesn't matter anymore The cocksucking media on MAX is hiccuping again. Damn. It usually smooths out after a while, but in the meantime, the playback is very irritating. I just have to live with it. Anyway, the hour is later and my daily routine is out of the way. The new (replacement) neon sign showed up and it’s beautiful. I’ll have to localize a spot for mounting it in and around all the other shit I have to do in the garage. There is produce – a bag that arrives every Saturday morning from the City – and other items I need to put away, plus some things that have to be boxed and stored so my space is again wide-open. Some of my tools will arrive today and the rest tomorrow, so I’ll be working in the big drawer of my toolbox at some point. Moreover, the cable tray arrived yesterday, meaning I can rework all of the wiring for this big machine and neaten the entire system. Lots to do; plenty of time. For right now, though, I am going to relax here with my massive glass of whiskey and contemplate the order of the day. Jamie’s loving eyes have faded, thank Christ. I love her like nothing else on earth, but God knows I don’t need to dwell. I’ll be out of control during the sixth season. Oh, fuck... Never in my life have I needed a two-second sleeping dream to come true. We were together; we loved each other. I knew everything would be ok. Each occasion of seeing her late in the series diminishes my ability to cope with reality, one notch at a time. She is above all things in the world. Ugh. Onward. I just received a text message from an unknown number asking what I am doing. My reply was, ‘Wondering who in the fuck you are’. I love screwing with people who attempt to defraud others via messages. The last one was a ‘person’ asking if I remembered ‘her’. I received an image – for the second time, mind you – of a stunning Asian woman sitting in some beautiful restaurant. I know what that’s all about. Scams are everywhere these days, so whenever I see a text along such lines, my demeanor is harsh and very unwelcomed. I love it... A touch of fun during an otherwise typical day. I’ve spoken to others about this type of thing, and they generally ignore everything. I, on the other hand, tend to slam the sender with wordsmithing they probably don’t want to see. The practice is enjoyable because I’m always seeking new ways of transmitting my disdain for attempted scams. That just boosted my mood a little bit, believe it or not. Did you notice that the title is cryptic and possibly meaningless? I refuse to be ‘read’. Wow. Ten minutes have passed and I have not received a reply to my harshness. Excellent. Any further responses will be increasingly unpleasant. Perhaps the sender is accustomed to such a personality. Saturday. The morning drive was uneventful aside from a person unhappy with the fact that I stopped at a particular yellow light rather than flying around the corner. I received a ‘head shake’, as if I was the ‘bad guy’. Things like that will keep me from driving at all. Anyway, nothing else of note took place and I am back at the control center – probably where I should have been the entire time. Yesterday I worked in the garage for a little while and now have a head start on the garbage business. I’ll probably take it a little easy this morning and then finish the routine like always. Afterward, I intend to mess around in this office because the cable tray is waiting to be installed and I’d like to get a few things out of this room. Best case, I’ll be able to return the V-track to the drafting table and perhaps even actually used the fucking thing for a change. It’s been in the garage for a few years. Other than those items, I can contemplate the future of the shed. Power; lights; whatever. I had to switch media because Max was again glitching, and combined with additional choppiness in the playback, I could barely stand to listen to a single sentence. Now I have to look at my friend’s clone again. You know... The scary one who is so far beyond beautiful that I can barely understand her face. Jesus. I said scary and I meant it, however. She is fucking frightening. The girl on this program is most decidedly not scary at all. She is amazing and I could spend the rest of my life staring at her gorgeous lips. At some point I may try going back to the other site and see if it’s working better. Right now, I just don’t care enough to make the change. This program is fine for the time being, and that despite my desire to jump into the story and show her just how much I appreciate her appearance. Oy, God. Never me. I really need to streamline things. That statement has graced this content for many years, most notably during the early to mid aughts. Back then I felt quite strongly about breaking free of the ‘typical’ day to day and week to week routines, such as work and all of the time spent both at the location and driving in either direction. Moving south in aught-one really helped and became the shortest commute I had in four years. Later, however, even the shorter drive became tiresome more often than not. The upside was arriving home in the afternoon and the wonderful feeling attached to being out of the car and comfortable in the apartment. During weekend mornings, I’d sit at the old control center and gaze out at the hills to the east, all the while dreaming and yearning to get the fuck out of this state. The interesting part is that the passage of time created the need to go, but I’ve been in this house for twelve years and only recently have I desired a massive change. Naturally, this feeling is far outside all the other shit I’ve railroaded throughout the past four-plus years (almost seven, really, if you go back to the failing fantasy). I guess the drive this morning with its little hiccup brought ‘escape’ back to mind after it had been fairly dormant for years. It will either pass or not; I will either relax about it or not. There is no way to know what my days will be like a year or more from now. God damn does that girl have some lips... So unique and beautiful. Ugh. Stop. Since I can’t go anywhere, I’ll just have to do my best to remain here as much as possible and utilize anything with the ability to either distract me from the shit or allow me to feel comfortable while home. I don’t have many choices these days. One huge plus is no longer needing to go to work. I simply MUST keep that in mind. Control over most of my time has become very important and I need to appreciate each moment. To this very day, a thought pops into my head each night when I climb into bed, and that is to consider the value of having a warm place to sleep. That may sound simple, but there are many who have much less than myself. I will remain mindful of all the little positives I have right now and try to leave my dreams of escape and quiet to the side for as long as possible. The last of the coffee is here on the table. Once consumed, I’ll rise and work on the routine with my friends in the background. At some point, a set of tools will arrive and I’ll be able to get them put away. At that point, I may continue to work in the garage and consider options for the shed. That space has to remain neat and everything must be accessible. Perhaps when cocktail hour arrives, I can shut this system down and try to get the cable tray installed. I very rarely do anything without some sort of media playing, and that means I’ll have to boot the laptop for a little while. Yep, I am almost completely dependent upon my library of video media. Without it, I am not a happy person. And yes, that means even less happy than on a typical day. Yesterday (and the previous day, I believe), the episodes that had been playing on and off as I worked around the house originally aired during the glowing years. I’ve progressed, meaning the latest episode aired during the fall of ninety-two. Once the ‘glow’ episodes are behind me, I won’t yearn so badly to travel back in time. I believe just a year earlier – ninety-one – was very important and the best representation of just how fulfilling and enjoyable life can be. Er... Could be. Whatever. The point is that when those times come to mind, everything looks like shit; truncated, sad, and very difficult. I will be thinking about all of this as soon as I begin playback of the second series in a little while. The rotation will move along to the fifth show shortly thereafter (maybe in another week or two) and the glow will again be positioned far enough back in my mind for me to relax a bit. The more I think about the way life was during that short period, the more I miss it. I don’t expect to watch time pass in large quantities and see nothing change, but after decades the gradient is enormous. There are several aspects to that period which are often compared to the present, two of which I’ve brought to this space in the past. The third? Nope. I have trouble just thinking about it. The series brings me back and makes me sad, yet I still love to watch those people. Monday morning and not all is well... Sideways; sad; buried within a hole fashioned from memories. I am having problems and will need to distract myself quite a bit today if I am to see tomorrow. This is so fucking unacceptable that I can’t believe it. This is only day two. Think of all the other days yet to pass."
Day Two
Mature content No. 414 Published June 10th, 2024 8:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Well, another essay has been completed but not published. The shape of things to come shall be short blurbs visible, changing from time to time, yet nothing substantial or remotely personal will appear in the public domain. I don’t want my feelings out there floating amongst the detritus. I’ve said that before, too. The idea never stuck for very long because I was impatient. Now? What’s different? I must remain behind a construct for my own peace of mind. I don’t know if this situation will change anytime soon, nor do I have a plan for the long term. And? I don’t care. Never take issue with a guy wearing red leather pants, especially if he hails from Calabria. That will not go over well. Don’t even get me started on the Sicilians. Just a thought. The last of the coffee on this Wednesday morning. The drive was a bit slow due to lots of commuters, but it came and went like always. I have the rest of the day to continue where I left off yesterday with storage and organization. The dinner I created last night turned out very well and there is enough left for another meal this evening. That means my late afternoon work will be very simple. Oh, boy is Gloria fucking scary and strange in this episode. I never enjoyed the scenes at the zoo. Sometimes I skip them because there is an aspect of one scene that is rather disgusting. Ugh. Whatever. She is not here, thank Christ, and there is little chance I’d be concerned with such a situation in the future. I see too much sometimes, but just enough during more important moments. Ooh-fa. The weather is sunny and the air cool, but the warmth of the sun is too much for physical work in the backyard. I moved a few more items, organized part of the garage, and built a temporary step to the shed. Oy. There is a ton of empty space in the garage now, meaning whenever I work out there I need not be concerned about what goes where. I formulated a plan to build a loft above roughly forty percent of the shed space. One day soon I’ll visit the hardware store for a few hangers so I can put it up. The area will be thirty-two square feet and the lower portion of the loft will be nearly eight feet off the floor. Not bad. That will be long-term storage. The important aspects of this change in the household is to allow the car to fit in the garage each day and to free up storage for much-needed items inside the house. I don’t like foraging for things whenever the need arises. I went to the big wine store and saw that petite beauty again. There is something about her face which frightens me, however. I usually see her in one place or another (I believe she’s an assistant manager), and always in super-tight yoga pants that leave nothing to the imagination. I’ve seen her so many times that her lines don’t hit me upside the head very much anymore. As I said, she’s rather scary. Aside from seeing that gorgeous woman again, my order had a few incorrect items but it’s not a big deal; partly my fault for not checking the items prior to leaving the store. Upon returning home, I took care of the routine and poured myself a nice, cold glass of depressing liquid for posterity. The fact that I purchase whiskey in 1.75L bottles six at a time is probably not a good thing, but I will also say that when the bar is full, I am much more comfortable. Eh... Both facts are indicative of my need to escape reality, much like the third image here. She is not real – just like several other images of beauty that I’ve included in recent entries – and the more I consider my condition, the more I realize how distorted my life has become. All of the fictional programming I follow, the imagery toward which I tend to gravitate, and the nature of my thought processes as they have changed since the first damaging dream have combined to create the most skewed version of myself imaginable. I used to be quite different, honestly. I really was different, and I don’t just mean during the glowing years. There was more. Now? I have no future. There is no savior. There is probably a ‘her’, but I’ll never know. Staring at that woman’s legs at the store was tiny when held against the stark image of what I have become. All that shit adds up to the reason I no longer publish anything. Friday; nearly meaningless. I have coffee and my program is running. In a little while I will take care of half the routine and then visit the market for a few items. Afterward, the only priority will be a continuation of straightening two rooms inside the house and ensuring that the garage enjoys lots of empty space. I really don’t know what else to do these days. I am having trouble with every step of every day. I can’t extricate certain very specific images from my brain long enough to fully concentrate on anything. The damaging dreams have been taking their toll on my ability to cope with reality and understand why such a change came about in the first place. My work around the house is solely for trying to push everything away (suppression, for sure) long enough to think clearly. I can’t stop seeing her and I can’t disregard such a strong desire to... Never mind. My brain is out of fucking control. I’ll get through the day like always, but the truth is I am finding less and less reason to even try in the first place. I went to the market and hardware store and then returned to finish my morning housework. Thankfully, there was nothing to see. Very good. The hardware will allow me to fully build and install a loft in the shed. I don’t know if I’ll complete it today, though, because I am not feeling up to snuff like the past several days. Maybe after lunch I’ll feel like working out there. Aside from the loft, I picked up a bolt latch for the kitchen cabinet that has not remained closed due to design and/or manufacturing flaws. I believe I can make it work. Once installed, I can work on relaxing the left door which is bowed quite a bit. The best method is to force the door to bow in the opposite fashion and then clamp it. The process will take weeks because training the wood is not a quick and easy fix. I may also fasten the main component to the decorative slats that are on the front. That may help train the wood to flatten some. Worst case, I’ll relocate the cabinet to the shed and find a replacement for the kitchen. I have my eye on a similar unit that is likely better designed, plus it would be delivered by truck and forklift rather than shipped across the ocean. My fat cocktail is helping to smooth the late morning. Call me what you will... I don’t fucking care anymore. Saturday. Ugh... A glimpse of her just for a moment yesterday and right there before my hungry eyes was a reminder of something that took place way back in nineteen (I think it was that year, anyway). All I can say is that it had to do with a certain person – one who is attractive and scary, sweet and powerful (not my type at all) – as she left one of the job sites while we returned to work. She owned the home in which we had been working, and little did I know that the job for her would not be the last. In fact, we worked quite a bit in her own home not long after the aforementioned work was wrapped up. I’ve rarely seen that type of maneuver, especially with regard to someone near my own age. As for the other one, the vision went straight into me and then traveled back in time just to drive me up the fucking wall. The gradient became illuminated, and then my own life was called into question... The changes which have come about in the last couple of years. Not good. Believe me, you don’t want to know the details. I saw her for that short period of time, fell into a pit again because I can’t have her in ANY fucking way that is conceivable, and nearly lost my way entirely before righting myself to continue the afternoon. My brain became saturated with imaginary pictures swirling themselves into a froth. Prior to the sight of her fucking pants and everything contained therein, I built nearly all of the loft. After the sighting? All I could do was sweep the floors of the shed and garage. I became worthless. The early morning business is out of the way and my head is completely sideways because of a wildlife program on the television. I usually have the news running during the morning, but this being Saturday means the choices are limited, in part due to the need to stream live television through the Internet. Anyway, there was an intern who traveled to the UK to assist veterinarians there and learn. She was gorgeous and had the frame and form of the Raven. Those jeans are not very popular anymore (I believe), having been replaced with designs carrying much higher waistlines. The low-rise style did a much better job of accentuating the relationship between waist and hips, not to mention the way the upper thighs can be shown off thanks to an extremely short zipper (or button fly, whichever). The girl on the program had lines up the wazoo – almost fully visible – medium brown hair framing those very special facial features that I love so much, and moved with the fluid nature of a person with no idea whatsoever that she is an enigma and something to be cherished for all time. I worshiped her for a few minutes and then finished my morning stuff. Now I have her image in my brain. There is a certain very specific mechanical relationship between that style of pants and the numbers that took over my life some twenty-odd years ago. I can’t describe it, but I will say that nothing on earth drives me up the wall more quickly or effectively than seeing an ideal example of such an amazing form. The Raven had it in spades and allowed me to stare to my heart’s content, or at least until She became uncomfortable due to all the gushing about Her beauty. I had to back off at times and I fully understood why. The girl on the television was very similar, although she carried that lower-face thingy (like Nora) that I still can’t fucking describe no matter how hard I try. I know a good amount of words, but still not enough. The rest of this morning will be spent right here at the control center because I need to consider how much worse these types of sightings hit me as opposed to just a year ago. This is fucking insane. I can’t believe the massive amount of emotion that flowed through me when I saw her smile. Yes, the torment and pain were present, but the more time that passes, the more desperation I feel during those moments, as if I am missing out on something that will disappear forever. It hurts, deeply. My heart has been involving itself for months now, and I can barely maintain myself each day. What I saw yesterday was equally powerful, yet very different and I can’t say why. Just know that the pain I feel when I see those aspects of beauty is increasing and disallowing clear thinking at the most fundamental level. That is to say I am having more trouble functioning like a real person than ever before. I wish I hadn’t seen that girl on the television. This situation inside my head is a clear indication of my present condition, and when combined with the damaging dreams and how they have skewed my way of thinking, the image of myself compared to some years ago is so different that I cannot understand it. The shit situations continue to grade aside any possibility of me finding inner peace. Today is going to be tough. I will have to push hard to come out the other side upright.
I don't even know where to fuckin' start
Ugh. Reality. Not good. I do not deal well with the rigors of being aware that human beings have a finite time to live. I am not going into a massive philosophical rant, either. We have been given the questionable gift of knowing that we are going to die. Other creatures – aside from humans, of course... I am referring to the INNOCENT species who greatly outnumber the stupid (all) people – have no idea of the finite nature of existence, and thankfully so. We are the ones who use up everything and continue to advance all that the other creatures cannot. We progress for all the good it can do. Sometimes I think about everything and wonder about the point of it all, and other times I simply go with the flow and do my best to be productive and comfortable. Today seems to be a combination of the two, good or bad as that may be. The Sunday morning drive came and went without incident, plus I did not stop at the market like usual, so I am at the control center earlier than the average weekend. Very good. I need some time to think after dealing with last night and trying to fall asleep. My brain would not stop thinking about the shed, my car (the slipper) and other things that I need to do now that the former is in place and available. As for the car, well... I am having trouble with that topic but it will not leave me alone. I’ve been considering certain aspects of life that have disappeared, and my desire to own and drive certain very specific models may now be one of them. Ugh. I keep saying that because the little enjoyments continue to shrink in their ability to hold me up. I did eventually fall asleep, of course, and awakened today ready for the drive. Well, I was more ready to arrive back home, but you know what I mean. Some are sharp in the morning and others are a bit foggy and slow to get going. I just happen to be one of the sharp people. Now I can do whatever the fuck I need for the rest of the day. Nice. I have a few ideas for storage now that the loft is finished, plus a plan for the empty space that will be created in the garage cabinets. I’ll get to a few things once the coffee is gone. As for the inside of my head and all that shit from yesterday, nothing has changed. I’ve just been pushing back in order to function like a grown-up person. The shit will eventually push back hard enough to put me down. I already know. The other essay that I mention from time to time is entitled ‘The Reason’, just in case I do decide to die. At least certain people will know why. I might work on that one again, soon. As my head goes through the motions of living in these late days, sometimes the feelings become too powerful to quash. I need that little outlet. I only bring it up because the dreamy nature of the past comes to mind each and every day no matter what else may be taking place. The information pushes me and I need to do something about it. Right now, for example, and within this paragraph, I’ve been discussing what can be done today, but all the while the back of my mind keeps returning to certain situations from years ago that are so powerful that I can’t shove them away, ever. Even in the midst of something important, the feelings slam me over and over. I can’t do anything about anything these days. I’ll continue to work and try to push back because I can’t just fucking sit here all the time. One day, everything will stop and that other essay will be all that is left of yours truly. Splendid. I know not when, but one day. For whatever reason, that ‘thing’ that I’ve never been able to understand or explain (and that despite a long discussion with someone that is very important to me but gone) returned to my mind this morning and I keep wondering if I need to leave it alone to avoid being overly sad. I just don’t know. The operation, for lack of a better term, is something so wondrous that I still can’t believe it, and this after years of consideration. I know what it is for the most part, I just don’t understand how or why it may take place during certain situations. I don’t get it. I suppose considering the way things have changed over the years – including the way I have been completely damned by dreams – I’ll never know, nor will the experience be a possibility for me. All this shit continues to make me wonder why I am sitting here, why I still try to help other people, and what I may be waiting for. Do you know? Fuck off. You don’t know anything. What I know is that the situation, the ‘thing’, is real because I’ve seen and experienced it. If the possibility is gone, I’ll see it as nothing more than another reason to die. I feel so empty and broken right now that all the effort in the world will be required if I am to get anything done today. As I’ve said many times, with each passing day there is less reason for me to help others. Eventually it will be completely gone and I won’t be able to find a reason to save my life. Cocktail hour has arrived, thank the maker. I finished the routine with my extended family in the background. I need to keep the house fairly quiet for a while, or at least until I have the place to myself until evening. I’ll take care of laundry and garbage in a little while. The French girl will be on the screen soon, meaning my brain will create scenarios in which she is with me and involved in physical situations that I shall not describe here. I’ve already done that plenty. Fucking hell, though... The things that go through my head when she walks away from the camera are absolutely criminal. Don’t even get me started when her character complains that Artie’s gnocchi is going to cause her to ‘get a belly’, and then she lifts her top to reveal no such circumstance. Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch... What I wouldn’t give to... Eh, never mind. I’ve had the hots for that girl for so many years now that I don’t even know where to begin. And now Devin is on the screen (all through this episode and a few others later during the series). Fuck me in a muddy ditch in winter... She is the very definition of damaging, much like the dreams. Ugh. Whatever. If only... NOPE. Thank God I am an alcoholic. ‘None of that for me’ means I need some sort of crutch to hold me up during those moments when the desire becomes out of fucking control. Yep... I am weaker than one may believe. Trust me when I say that what goes through my head these days when I see something special has never been fully described on the site. Never. I can’t do that because I already appear bad enough. I should refrain from pointing out that my desire to plant my lips and tongue to the French girl’s labia for a calendar month. My feelings are stronger than that, too. Wait... What did I say? Labia. Lips. I would worship her sex until my death. Didn’t I say I was going to leave out the details? She would find herself wholly aware of the depth of my desire. But remember, I can’t say anything for reasons of good form. My tongue would come out of her fucking nose in ten seconds. The universe has forsaken me. As for the storage and organization, I have no idea how I will feel later today, so the work may or may not take place. To be honest, I feel like cruising over the hill to sit at my favorite lunch spot for a little while. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll visit that restaurant/bar and do some writing. After all these years, feeling even the tiniest bit free usually calls for stepping outside my normal life and embracing the time-honored tradition of relaxing with some excellent food and alcohol while typing into the cloud. My ideas for different road trips seem to lead nowhere, and the fact that very few of my preferred destinations around this area have disappeared adds up to a feeling akin to lashing out. My path through life continues to narrow. I have to do something that remotely resembles better days. This episode shows me the French girl, Devin and her unbelievably cute demeanor, and Jamie in some of the most adorable shots imaginable. The combination is forcing me to sip this whiskey at an even greater rate than on a typical day. I will eventually get some things done. I always do. Thankfully, dinner will be reheated leftovers. Very simple. Whatever happened during last night that has left the hearing in my ‘good’ ear’s narrowed frequency response has been baffling. My good ear was the one that provided detail, as in high frequency definition. I don’t know if this will pass or not, but I will say that if it does not, I have one additional reason to commit suicide. Maybe I should refill my drink, consume it, and then go to bed for a few hours. Depression is not an enjoyable state of mind. Storage and organization... Yeah, whatever. AJ is upset that Devin didn’t tell him that her family is very rich. What a fucking idiot. He could have had something I’ve desired for years, not to mention a lack of concern about the cost of daily comfort. Jesus. Had that been me? Oh, Hell... I would have made my feelings very clear for a very long time. I’d have worshiped every fucking aspect of that girl until she tossed me aside. Never me. Just... NEVER ME. My time has all but passed. Curious; age does alter one’s mindset. Too bad I didn’t see it years ago. Can you imagine her little vagina? Can you imagine how fucking adorable it was back then? Am I being disrespectful, or am I being honest? I am a ‘he’ who is attracted to a ‘she’, so speaking my mind should not be a problem as long as I do not treat her as an object or demean her in any way. I am only speaking of something that is a draw for me. Her little labia, nothing more. Yes, she is a person above all other things, but due to me being an absolute nobody sitting here alone with my thoughts day after day, the only recourse I have is to vent every now and then, and this time the topic just happens to be that girl in the show from more than twenty years ago. None of it matters, so I’d better not get in trouble for this. Tell me there is a person who does not think in such terms. Go for it. The point is AJ could have had the girl, the gold watch and everything. Too bad he was a fuckin’ idiot. I had the girl, the silver watch and nothing, but that was another story; a fictional story. Devin is a food group. My girl in the story was a machine. Devin is a character portrayed by a real person.
Twenty years of being obsessed with the example above
Monday morning has appeared regardless of my feelings. Time rolls on, rolls over me, and rolls very quickly when I am not paying attention. There is no stopping the progression of events. I have coffee and a wide-open schedule, though, so as of now the day does not appear bad. The purity has created an absolutely heartbreaking situation in my mind and I feel it every fucking day. This morning is no different. There was an amazing scene some years ago that took place in reality and caught me off-guard. Some time later I realized the topic was very real, and now I can’t seem to escape the idea that the most important aspects of living are all gone. Things are changing and there is nothing I can do about it. What took place cannot easily be explained, either. Well, there is no one available. Not much point in trying at all. It just hurts so much. No way out of this. There is no way out. I just have to lump it. It's Tuesday now. Does that matter? Pointing out the changing of the calendar from one day to the next? No one is going to give a shit. It’s rather like telling people too long of a story about something personal. Part way through your bullshit, they will lose interest. I’ve been stating the day of the week – not every single time, but most – for years, mostly since the outset of the pandemic, I believe. I suppose there is nothing else to break into the beginning of a morning paragraph. Shit, I don’t know. Daily stuff; the routine, housework, laundry, dry cleaning, organization... Those items are my entire life because the holes inside me cannot realistically be filled by anyone or anything else. There is the idea of the savior, but she is about as likely as growing wings and flying myself to Vegas without a plane ticket. I don’t enjoy considering my place in the world. I enjoy lunch, though. Dinner sometimes, too. The rest is simply filler, as if I am waiting for something to happen. Wait... What? What did you say? Get out there and FIND what I need? Right. That’s simple. Combine about ten different personalities and then inject them into a woman presenting the extremely rare physical appearance that must be aligned with my obsession. Good fucking luck. There is nothing left for me in the world. Coffee, I guess. The time is just shy of nine o’clock and I plan to take it easy for a little while longer. There is always plenty to do. I just need to find some ambition to push through the morning and make it to afternoon time. I found it. Some of my stuff is finished. I also cleaned the cat steps and returned them to their previous place next to the master bed. Also, I mounted the left-hand display with an arm; a single version of the double arm holding the center and right-hand displays. It’s been residing in the garage for the last few months because I figured it was not completely necessary and decided to use it for a television out there. Well, I changed my mind again and installed the smaller, curved display back where it was above my toolbox. I am awaiting a cable management tray that mounts to the back of this table. When it arrives (probably Friday), I’ll straighten everything and power the display. I also need to install the new microphone that came in the mail the other day. Everything should come together once the tray is here. Initially, I was concerned about the way it mounts to the rear of the table, but later realized that the mounting style doesn’t matter. I can customize it however I wish. Some peripherals and accessories which clamp to a table do not fit very well, but I am just the person to employ power tools and whatnot in order to adapt the product as needed. No big deal. This table is seventy-four by thirty-two inches and holds everything necessary for me to write, watch, edit or whatever else feels like a priority on any given day. In fact, the table is so large that I can operate this machine with all three displays and there is still plenty of room for the laptop, just in case I need to access older files or software. Not for nothing, but I inherited this table from the federal government some years ago and it was built by a contracted company in 1952. Just a thought. I used to have all sorts of things from that era. Now I have very little. The main reason I wanted some things from NASA’s glorious history in my house was because I felt a deep connection to them. Some of those items have gone away. Very few remain in my possession. I don’t even know why I brought up the fucking table. Maybe I was feeling the memories. Maybe I am a fucking idiot. Anyway, the day will move along and I’ll do whatever seems best. Ugh. I saw her again, just for a few seconds. Jesus. I wish that hadn’t happened, but at the moment I was gazing toward the street and then... SMACK! Her form hit me right in the face and caught me right the hell off-guard again. Damn. Sometimes I just can’t understand her shape. Eh... Fuck it. The sight is gone and will occur again. I just have to fucking deal with it. So I connected the microphone to check this out and see how it's going to work with Google Docs. I guess it's not bad, and I wanted to do this for some time because the interface while typing can be clumsy. Still good, but clumsy. What I will probably do is try out the microphone for a few days beginning with tomorrow morning and then make a decision on whether or not this is the best way to go for faster input to the documents. Sometimes when I'm working around the house I get ideas on what I need to say or other aspects of my mind that should be explored, but by the time I sit at the editor they fade too much for me to recall. Memory is not a fun thing to deal with as we age. The previous entry ended with a very sad note or should I say ON a very sad note. I recalled shit situation number two for the billionth time and remembered a small but very significant detail that had been lost in the wasteland of my head for many years. I just noticed that when I curse into the microphone, the interface replaces some of the letters with asterisks. That is damned funny. I need to go back with the mouse and keyboard to correct the errors. Heh. Anyway, I’ll be trying to use this thing when the mood strikes, regardless of the necessity of returning and manually replacing individual letters. Now, where was I? Ah, yes... The added detail of shit situation number two. The worst aspect of recalling something that had been lost for so many years is that it is related to one person that is still living. Moreover, and worse, is the fact that said person is the sole soul with whom I’ve been in contact within my family for the last decade-plus, the rest having passed away over the years. This is not good and has been causing anger on and off for quite a while now. I believe the realization came about during the past month or so. I need to think about everything some more prior to making any changes. This is just all bad. I had thought for a long time that the situation was fine – though I consider the negative effects that shit has had on me for decades, mostly throughout the last four years of analysis – and now I see that the issue has been larger than originally thought. I can’t even slam the fucking door on anyone. Not one person is available. The next day is here regardless of whether or not I am ready. On the upside, the morning has progressed, I have a nice, fat cocktail, and the routine is finished. I also clamped some wood to the kitchen cabinet door in hopes of training it to relax, or at least lessen the amount that the handle side is bowed. The plan is to leave the training system in place for a week or so, mount the back of the cabinet to the wall, and then install a latch across the tops of the doors so they stay closed and aligned. Both doors have issues and the latch will help one of them. The other is dependent upon how well my reverse bow system works over time. On another front, I ordered three plastic panels and corner pieces to surround the litter boxes. One (or both, possibly) of the cats has been overshooting the top edges of the boxes, so I have to get something in place that will block the liquid. The cats are getting older, meaning I’ll have to do my best to help them when the need arises. I don’t mind because I love those little guys. Moreover, once the panels are surrounding the boxes – both sit upon a plastic tray – I can continue improving that room. Both beds are going to be relocated to the shed, one dresser will take their place, and one tree will be moved to the master bedroom. In all, there are lots of changes that should help the spare bedroom become a more controlled, much neater space. The next front is the shed organization. Adding the mattresses requires moving some items as well as the shelving units, and that project is going to move along very slowly due to the weather being so warm right now. The shed is cool for the most part, yet the sun can be unrelenting. Temperature is the primary reason I added two windows and a ridge vent to the design. Over the last few sunny days, I noticed that the mercury does not get out of control in the sunshine. Very good. I will probably move everything a little at a time. There is no hurry since the garage is in very good shape right now. My mural is finished, there is a replacement neon sign in the mail, and I have a plan to streamline the appearance of my favorite space. The clock is nearing noon, meaning I don’t know how productive I’ll be after lunch, but for right now I am feeling fairly positive. The reasons are many, yet I already know they will soon run out and leave me the same sad pile of shit I was prior to so many improvements. Call me whatever you wish. I don’t care. Jamie is on the screen again, looking so far beyond beautiful that I cannot understand, and at the same time I remain in a deep chasm, tempered only by little things here and there. Sad? Oh, yes. Very. Later. I finished everything I set out to do for a change, and then headed to the shed to organize roughly half of what is stored there. Now there is not only a ton of empty space, but room for both beds if I wish to move them out of the house. At least one is going to end up in the shed. I just don’t know what the best choice is as of yet. The loft that I built came in very handy for longer-term items and helped to free up space on both shelving units. So far, the shed is working out better than I had anticipated. Another day is gone and Andrea came to mind last night due to that fucking episode of the second show which comes around in the rotation more than twice per year. Yep, her again. I can’t help it because the resemblance is striking. And yes, I will point out the fact that the episode in question aired more than thirty fucking years ago. Thirty-two, to be precise. I met Andrea at the beginning of eleven, meaning almost twenty years after seeing the girl who would become her twin on the show for the first time. Now I am all fucked up because Andrea is gone and I have to see the other one from time to time when the episode rolls around and she is fucking unbelievably stunning; she will never change, unlike Andrea in reality. I don’t know her anymore, yet she is out there, somewhere, aging. I lost her like I lost everything else. Well, some was thrown away, but the end result is the same... Gigantic holes inside me. And then I see the girl on the television – she resembles Andrea more than I can say, stood nearly the same height, and carries that inexplicable lower facial trait along with similar lips – and the sight causes me to fall off a cliff because of so many losses over the years, some of which are completely unrecoverable. Being reminded of Andrea really hurts these days. More each time, actually. The girl on the television is so high up the fucking scale of beauty that I don’t know how to deal with seeing her. I always seem to overlook the fact that mid-fifth season is the time when she appears and knocks me upside the head, yet I never think about such a fact prior to the episode coming along in the rotation. All those hours of television seem to bleed together, I suppose. Whatever the case, she was up there last night in all her high-definition glory and looking so beautiful that I wanted to run to the ocean and end myself. Loss after loss, and then reminder after reminder of just who and what I’ve become. Thinking about the slipper or my career, achieving the purchase of a home, or other aspects of life which are gone do not hold a candle to being reminded of Andrea or a number of others. The most pain; the deepest loss; the worst feelings. It’s done, though. The episode came and went, along with the next one. Now I can wait six-hundred ninety-three hours for it to come around again (give or take; those are ‘hours’ of television). God damn, that woman is second to the goddess of the universe. Believe it. Lots of pain.
Watch your depth of focus field, my dear
Between Andrea’s never-aging clone and the realization that came to mind a while back as related to shit situation number two, I am having a very difficult time focusing upon the positives, such as my mural being complete and the shed installation. The space in the garage is at an all-time high and the house continues to improve. All of it is being tempered by feelings of loss and the knowledge that I am not going to improve in the future. I can only embrace the little things for so long before sliding downhill again. Mornings are both bad and good, mostly due to the fact that the purity always comes to mind and makes me sad. The good part is all this time to do whatever I wish. Like most days, I’ll probably do just fine until lunch, at which time I’ll fall down and lose my way. Keeping busy in the afternoon is very difficult these days. I can’t stop recalling the bubble that Andrea and I created all those years ago. The word ‘bliss’ has never had a clearer definition. Ugh. I still need her, damn it. Some time has passed this morning and my kitchen cabinet project failed miserably. Mounting the unit to the wall was not a problem and aligned the doors as I had hoped. That is the good part. The bad? I mounted a bolt latch to the top of the doors and realized the wood that was used for construction may not be ‘all wood’, if that makes any sense. Driving the screws into the wood was a chore because the composition of the stringers and supports is akin to foreign cast iron... There are voids, soft spots and hard spots that forced the screws to be installed crooked. I have no idea of how strong the connections are. Moreover, once I finished installing the bolt, I let go of the doors and they opened again as if nothing had changed. To be honest, I should have been able to predict such a circumstance due to the force required in keeping both doors closed. Shit... The latch did not help at all. Mounting the cabinet top to the wall – straight into a stud – is important for seismic reasons, but ensuring that the doors close and remain closed does not seem possible without some hairbrain assembly, and I am not going any further with that aspect of the project. At this point I see two options. One is to relocate the piece-of-shit to the shed, and the other is to replace it with something better designed and manufactured. All in all, the cabinet has been little more than a pain in my ass. I’m done trying to fix it. For the time being, it will remain as it stands while I consider options. My brain would probably operate more efficiently if one of the two women from the above paragraph was here to hold me up. That statement is a very sad state of affairs. At least I know what I am. From here forward, I am going to try to further organize the shed to allow space for the mattresses, and then move the second dresser into the spare bedroom. The acrylic panels are scheduled to arrive later this afternoon. That means I can finalize at least one part of the bedroom reconfiguration. Better than nothing. Earlier, I considered shelving everything I was going to do in favor of cleaning up and heading to my favorite lunch spot for a little while. I know better, though. The visit would be wonderful, comfortable, and could return my head to a time when there were many options I could exercise when feeling cornered. It happens every time, although the one fact which tends to put the kibosh to my comfort is the idea that I will eventually return home and be no better for the experience. Knowing as much typically keeps me here all day long. That is fucking pathetic. Lunch is not the end of the world for most people, I assume, yet for me it is often precious. I used to go to lunch every other Friday (when I was off work thanks to the 9/80 schedule), write and sit while bantering with the bartender. Those feelings now seem a world away because when I sit there, part of me keeps going back in time and making comparisons to the present period. The past cannot be denied. My work this morning has simply pushed me to wish for something different. A ‘left turn’, if you will. The result will most definitely not be the same as it once was. Some of the past left turns led me to beautiful places. None of them exist anymore, so I will continue my day – half loaded – and expect the same as always... Sadness. The more I think of the girl in that episode, the more I remember Andrea, and then depression washes over me like a wave from the devil himself. Everything is gone. As has been the custom of late, I spent a bit of money on tools in order to lift myself for a few days. This may be all I have left in the world. Not even pizza has been helping lately, and I fucking love pizza. It used to be wonderful. Lately? Pizza is nothing more than a half hour or so of comfort. I know in advance that I’ll be no better for the experience. Isn’t that marvelous? All I've been doing for years is postponing the inevitable. Late afternoon. I did not do much today. The usual stuff came first, and then I continued with my garage efforts. Yesterday I started reconfiguring my toolbox to remove unnecessary items and other crap which has built up in a few drawers over the last five years. I’d like nothing but tools in there, if that makes sense. Raw materials, fasteners, and other stuff need not be in the drawers, especially since the truck has been asleep for quite some time. Regardless of whether or not that machine comes back out of its display case, I don’t want extraneous items floating around space better served by storing tools. The arrival of Friday morning is nearly meaningless. I used to cherish the ‘every other’ Friday off schedule, otherwise known as the 9/80, because we were off at 3:00 in the afternoon on the Fridays we worked, and then off the following week. I loved heading over to one of my favorite places at the time they first opened for the day to sit and write. The bars were always empty at such an early hour and I was very comfortable. I can still do the same thing, however I don’t feel the same anymore because I am not working full-time. The morning stuff is out of the way, and thanks to a very odd dream earlier, my head has not gone sideways. Something is blocking all that shit and allowing me to remain calm and undistorted today. I’m going to roll with it as long as possible because I don’t need any more of that shit. The requisite cocktail is here on the table, like always. For whatever reason, today’s free time feels more valuable than other days. That’s one thing I need to keep in mind, too: The upside of being home nearly all of the time. There are days when the hours resemble a curse. Other days seem to be a godsend. I don’t know why there is such a distinction, but for right now I am going to embrace the emotion. I do need to visit the market in a little while. Hopefully, there is nothing difficult over there today. If something hits me upside the head, it will be nothing new. I’m used to it, much like the idea of recording my thoughts here day after day. The fiction muse has left me, so all I can do is sit and describe my daily activities that rarely change. Maybe I should have gone to my favorite lunch spot. I haven’t visited that place for many months, possibly since last year. I can’t remember. The feeling of sitting there always reminds me of being ‘free’ with my options wide-open. I suppose the restriction is knowing in advance that I will return here and realize the trip cannot be anything but temporary these days. There may be no ‘left turns’ allowed in my future. That time could have passed. Oh, I have the resources to strike in some errant direction, yet the truth is unless the trip is literally (and finally) one-way, I’ll return here to a huge mess. I don’t need that shit. Believe me, I know all about running away. The only way a trip could work would be if I had better resources and different options once the need wore out. That just cannot happen these days. I can remain here, flex whatever is necessary for demonstrating my disdain and dissatisfaction in life, and then move on to the next day to do it all over again. And now the next day is here. See? The same shit. I’ll sit here with coffee, move into the housework for a little while, and then consider methods for not falling off the edge of the world during the afternoon. Splendid. Time and circumstance, motherfucks... Time and fucking circumstance. I completed the drive this morning without issue and have the entire day for whatever seems best. Sometimes I think the feeling of sitting here with coffee and knowing there are many hours ahead is the most positive of a given day. I can see everything as wide-open, rather than all closed up and dark like during the late afternoon. I don’t know why that happens so often. Maybe I just don’t care? Hmm. There are days in which I push just a little bit further and travel past and away from such negative feelings, and when that happens it is generally working on something fairly enjoyable and not too strenuous. Here comes Tony’s girlfriend with her big, partially sunken eyes. She gets more and more intriguing with every watch. I know not why, but big eyes are something I really appreciate. Anyway, I have no clue as to whether or not I’ll push through the difficulties later today. The hour is too early for an accurate prediction, although I will say that the more I bring it up here, the more I try to take any steps necessary for getting through the rest of the day without issue. I have ideas right now, in fact, so perhaps I’ll be ok later. According to LinkedIn, I appeared in two searches performed by someone at Northrop Grumman. Interesting, but I already know that shit will head in no good direction whatsoever. After years of seeing the results of my efforts on such a front, the awareness is acute, clear and right on the fucking target nearly all of the time. Yes, of course, I will take a look, but the truth is there will always be someone younger, more educated, and hungrier for the work than yours truly. My profile on that site is not all roses and bunnies, either. I made a statement about being dissatisfied with the entire ‘career’ process and the way it has been perceived since the outset of the pandemic. I really did. I also gleaned the idea that I know my extensive experience in all those fucking disciplines continues to fade into the past. I can still be someone of not, but without more positivity and education, the others will fly past me as if I am chained to a tree on the side of the information superhighway. Laugh it up. I’ll check back there from time to time. There is little chance of anything developing, but even the slightest possibility means I should not abandon the profile. My negative stance doesn’t help. At least I’m aware of such a fact. There has simply been too much bullshit for me to remain positive. And there goes the love of my life across the screen. Marvelous. Reality? Nope. Savior? Nope. Hence the negative. The last of the coffee is next to me. From here, I don’t know which way I will turn aside from the usual daily housework. The tools will be arriving later, so maybe I can continue to reconfigure the toolbox, plus I need to get the old dresser out of the shed to make room for all three mattresses. I can move two of them myself, but the third is a queen and quite heavy. I’ll require help for that one. I need to move some items that reside in the stud bays, too. I don’t want that shed to end up a big mess. My neighbor’s shed is full to the doors and he is convinced mine will get out of control. Well, he doesn’t realize the level of determination I have to ensure it stays nice and neat with everything accessible. When I want a space to stay nice and neat, I will eventually make it happen regardless of the difficulty. That is that. I’ll see what I can do later this morning. I just need to get Jamie’s big, beautiful eyes and the dreams of her out of my brain. Afterward, I can work.
Reality doesn't matter anymore
The cocksucking media on MAX is hiccuping again. Damn. It usually smooths out after a while, but in the meantime, the playback is very irritating. I just have to live with it. Anyway, the hour is later and my daily routine is out of the way. The new (replacement) neon sign showed up and it’s beautiful. I’ll have to localize a spot for mounting it in and around all the other shit I have to do in the garage. There is produce – a bag that arrives every Saturday morning from the City – and other items I need to put away, plus some things that have to be boxed and stored so my space is again wide-open. Some of my tools will arrive today and the rest tomorrow, so I’ll be working in the big drawer of my toolbox at some point. Moreover, the cable tray arrived yesterday, meaning I can rework all of the wiring for this big machine and neaten the entire system. Lots to do; plenty of time. For right now, though, I am going to relax here with my massive glass of whiskey and contemplate the order of the day. Jamie’s loving eyes have faded, thank Christ. I love her like nothing else on earth, but God knows I don’t need to dwell. I’ll be out of control during the sixth season. Oh, fuck... Never in my life have I needed a two-second sleeping dream to come true. We were together; we loved each other. I knew everything would be ok. Each occasion of seeing her late in the series diminishes my ability to cope with reality, one notch at a time. She is above all things in the world. Ugh. Onward. I just received a text message from an unknown number asking what I am doing. My reply was, ‘Wondering who in the fuck you are’. I love screwing with people who attempt to defraud others via messages. The last one was a ‘person’ asking if I remembered ‘her’. I received an image – for the second time, mind you – of a stunning Asian woman sitting in some beautiful restaurant. I know what that’s all about. Scams are everywhere these days, so whenever I see a text along such lines, my demeanor is harsh and very unwelcomed. I love it... A touch of fun during an otherwise typical day. I’ve spoken to others about this type of thing, and they generally ignore everything. I, on the other hand, tend to slam the sender with wordsmithing they probably don’t want to see. The practice is enjoyable because I’m always seeking new ways of transmitting my disdain for attempted scams. That just boosted my mood a little bit, believe it or not. Did you notice that the title is cryptic and possibly meaningless? I refuse to be ‘read’. Wow. Ten minutes have passed and I have not received a reply to my harshness. Excellent. Any further responses will be increasingly unpleasant. Perhaps the sender is accustomed to such a personality. Saturday. The morning drive was uneventful aside from a person unhappy with the fact that I stopped at a particular yellow light rather than flying around the corner. I received a ‘head shake’, as if I was the ‘bad guy’. Things like that will keep me from driving at all. Anyway, nothing else of note took place and I am back at the control center – probably where I should have been the entire time. Yesterday I worked in the garage for a little while and now have a head start on the garbage business. I’ll probably take it a little easy this morning and then finish the routine like always. Afterward, I intend to mess around in this office because the cable tray is waiting to be installed and I’d like to get a few things out of this room. Best case, I’ll be able to return the V-track to the drafting table and perhaps even actually used the fucking thing for a change. It’s been in the garage for a few years. Other than those items, I can contemplate the future of the shed. Power; lights; whatever. I had to switch media because Max was again glitching, and combined with additional choppiness in the playback, I could barely stand to listen to a single sentence. Now I have to look at my friend’s clone again. You know... The scary one who is so far beyond beautiful that I can barely understand her face. Jesus. I said scary and I meant it, however. She is fucking frightening. The girl on this program is most decidedly not scary at all. She is amazing and I could spend the rest of my life staring at her gorgeous lips. At some point I may try going back to the other site and see if it’s working better. Right now, I just don’t care enough to make the change. This program is fine for the time being, and that despite my desire to jump into the story and show her just how much I appreciate her appearance. Oy, God. Never me. I really need to streamline things. That statement has graced this content for many years, most notably during the early to mid aughts. Back then I felt quite strongly about breaking free of the ‘typical’ day to day and week to week routines, such as work and all of the time spent both at the location and driving in either direction. Moving south in aught-one really helped and became the shortest commute I had in four years. Later, however, even the shorter drive became tiresome more often than not. The upside was arriving home in the afternoon and the wonderful feeling attached to being out of the car and comfortable in the apartment. During weekend mornings, I’d sit at the old control center and gaze out at the hills to the east, all the while dreaming and yearning to get the fuck out of this state. The interesting part is that the passage of time created the need to go, but I’ve been in this house for twelve years and only recently have I desired a massive change. Naturally, this feeling is far outside all the other shit I’ve railroaded throughout the past four-plus years (almost seven, really, if you go back to the failing fantasy). I guess the drive this morning with its little hiccup brought ‘escape’ back to mind after it had been fairly dormant for years. It will either pass or not; I will either relax about it or not. There is no way to know what my days will be like a year or more from now. God damn does that girl have some lips... So unique and beautiful. Ugh. Stop. Since I can’t go anywhere, I’ll just have to do my best to remain here as much as possible and utilize anything with the ability to either distract me from the shit or allow me to feel comfortable while home. I don’t have many choices these days. One huge plus is no longer needing to go to work. I simply MUST keep that in mind. Control over most of my time has become very important and I need to appreciate each moment. To this very day, a thought pops into my head each night when I climb into bed, and that is to consider the value of having a warm place to sleep. That may sound simple, but there are many who have much less than myself. I will remain mindful of all the little positives I have right now and try to leave my dreams of escape and quiet to the side for as long as possible. The last of the coffee is here on the table. Once consumed, I’ll rise and work on the routine with my friends in the background. At some point, a set of tools will arrive and I’ll be able to get them put away. At that point, I may continue to work in the garage and consider options for the shed. That space has to remain neat and everything must be accessible. Perhaps when cocktail hour arrives, I can shut this system down and try to get the cable tray installed. I very rarely do anything without some sort of media playing, and that means I’ll have to boot the laptop for a little while. Yep, I am almost completely dependent upon my library of video media. Without it, I am not a happy person. And yes, that means even less happy than on a typical day. Yesterday (and the previous day, I believe), the episodes that had been playing on and off as I worked around the house originally aired during the glowing years. I’ve progressed, meaning the latest episode aired during the fall of ninety-two. Once the ‘glow’ episodes are behind me, I won’t yearn so badly to travel back in time. I believe just a year earlier – ninety-one – was very important and the best representation of just how fulfilling and enjoyable life can be. Er... Could be. Whatever. The point is that when those times come to mind, everything looks like shit; truncated, sad, and very difficult. I will be thinking about all of this as soon as I begin playback of the second series in a little while. The rotation will move along to the fifth show shortly thereafter (maybe in another week or two) and the glow will again be positioned far enough back in my mind for me to relax a bit. The more I think about the way life was during that short period, the more I miss it. I don’t expect to watch time pass in large quantities and see nothing change, but after decades the gradient is enormous. There are several aspects to that period which are often compared to the present, two of which I’ve brought to this space in the past. The third? Nope. I have trouble just thinking about it. The series brings me back and makes me sad, yet I still love to watch those people. Monday morning and not all is well... Sideways; sad; buried within a hole fashioned from memories. I am having problems and will need to distract myself quite a bit today if I am to see tomorrow. This is so fucking unacceptable that I can’t believe it. This is only day two. Think of all the other days yet to pass."
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